<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Lead On Into Eden by EllieBear</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22854670">Lead On Into Eden</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieBear/pseuds/EllieBear'>EllieBear</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Arranged Marriage, Dystopia, Future Fic, Sci-Fi, Slow Burn, Utopia, VMTAP20, alternative universe, just throw what you know about canon out the window before reading this okay?, post WWIII</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 18:29:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>141,725</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22854670</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieBear/pseuds/EllieBear</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 2055, twenty-five years after the end of WWIII and life for Veronica Mars is a peaceful, well-laid plan, executed in perfect sequence.  That is until she is matched for union with a very unexpected person.</p><p>A dystopian sci-fi take on LoVe.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1078</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>309</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Currently updating every weekend for the foreseeable (pandemic) future.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“I want to know what passion is.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>I want to feel something strongly.” </strong>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Aldous Huxley, Brave New World</strong> </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <b>Veronica</b>
</p><hr/><p>In the end, those who were left were equal.  History lessons taught us that the war started because of sex and class and race.  There is only so long you can hold the oppressed down before they realize that losing their lives in war was still better than the life they were leading now.  Some escaped north and south of the border. History also taught the irony of walls built to keep others out being destroyed to do so. Those who stayed, fought.  Fought the government, fought the rich, fought the corporations. In the end, it all just fell. My father once talked of a time of mass communication called the “internet,” where people could air their grievances and pick petty fights based on the mundane.  That was the first thing the uprising took out—mass communication—knowing that the rich were too lazy to even pick up a phone to call someone and too stupid to believe anyone would want their destruction.</p><p> </p><p>My father was a teenager at the time and was quick and smart.  He became the <em> communication </em> in the city of Neptune, embroiled in a class war for decades before actual combat broke out.  Keith Mars was once a star track runner and had that face that everyone could trust. That’s what made him so effective at sneaking communications between different resistance groups—everyone believed him.  They still do. His efforts in the great war were rewarded by the New Democracy that rose. Everything was now fair. We were now not judged by our skin or our sex but by our abilities and our minds. My father was quick and smart and when the leaders of the New Democracy ran his statistics through the government super-computer—nicknamed <em> Orwell— </em>they found he would be the perfect fit to be the head of the New Democracy Safety System for our region.  Dad said they used to simply be called the “police” in his day, but that word still had connotations to the old ways, so they had to change it.  </p><p> </p><p>When he was thirty, he was also granted a wife.  Because everyone was equal, sexual preferences were taken into account—I found out in our Personal Health class that at one point, people saw some couplings as a crime—and my dad was matched with my mother, Lianne.  But it could have been different. My friend Lilly and her brother, Duncan, are the products of a relationship of two fathers and one mother—Jake, Clarence, and Celeste Kane—the computer matching their parents from their preferences.  Before the war, there was choice as to with whom a person could be in a relationship. My mother calls it “dating,” and it sounds horrible. There was often no perfect match, and one would have to “try out” different people until there was a fit.  My mother once talked about how many people had died in the process. She spoke of men who felt entitled—to sexual favours or even full commitment—based on a simple dinner or drink, who would kill a woman who rejected them; and of people whose gender was fluid who were murdered in the street by simpletons filled with hate.  She said that thankfully a lot of the people who perpetrated these crimes were killed during the war when they were conscripted by the government, and those that were left were sent to the work camps, cleaning up the radiation zones that happened during the fall.</p><p> </p><p>I keep wondering what the computer has in store for me, plain old Veronica Mars, when I turn 18 next week.  When I look around, I seem to be among the average. I’m a little shorter than most—only just 5’ 1” —but smarter than a lot.  And I do like my long, blond hair, even if it is a pain to keep brushed when it’s down to almost my butt. In June, I graduated from Neptune Sector High School and have spent the better part of the summer preparing to travel across the country to Lincoln University in the eastern zone. At 16, <em> Orwell </em> said I had an aptitude for law enforcement and gave me the choice of following in my dad’s footsteps into public safety or becoming a lawyer and eventually a judge.  I decided on becoming a lawyer and was joined in my studies by Duncan and his jackass friend, Logan. Both were told they had a strong aptitude for becoming lawyers or politicians, although both careers took the same tract in high-school.  While brawny and thoughtful Duncan chose to become a lawyer, tall and gregarious Logan said he suffered too many years with painful braces for him not to become a politician, and took great pride in flashing that stupid grin at me every time he stood up in debate class and launched into his list of dumbass quotes from politicians and people who lived during the old times.  </p><p> </p><p>Logan’s parents were Hollywood insiders, both working behind the scenes on the fall of the misogynist business of movie-making.  When the dust settled, young Aaron and Lynn Echolls (once Disney corporate teen stars) were heralded as the Mister and Mata Hari of the revolution in the western region and continued to live their life out as film-makers, hired by the New Democracy to create quality amusement for the rest of the masses as a way to try and hide from the pain of life after the war.  Somewhere along the way, Logan was born, and they moved away from the contamination zone to Neptune. Even though he’s a pompous ass, the fact that his parents are one of the few who actually<em> chose </em> each other, without the computer, is still fascinating to me and I enjoy going over to his house, just to watch how they act around each other.  Usually, it’s not much different from my own parents, but still, it intrigues me.  </p><p> </p><p>Lilly confided to me the last time we met for coffee that Duncan hopes to be matched with me, and since he specifically requested a wife and I specified a husband, there is that possibility.  He’s kind and serious about his studies, and if I was matched with him, I wouldn’t reject the coupling. Mercifully, Logan told us all at lunch he placed himself as <em> polyamorous </em> and said he would let the chips fall where they may.  Even though Logan and Duncan already turned 18, they still did not get matched to partners, which meant the people they had been assigned were not of age.  Lilly is a year older than us and was pleased last year to be matched with Sabrina. Their partnership ceremony was beautiful, and since Lilly was studying to become a new-world anthropologist, she was able to find a white dress that women would wear to their wedding that she wore to the Union Signing.  Her family was slightly aghast at her, but Lilly just noted that to learn from history, one must preserve it and confidently paraded through the room, letting everyone admire the delicate layers of tule skirting and sparkling beads as they twirled up.</p><p> </p><p>I just hope I know the person the computer chooses.  Lilly and Sabrina were on the same college campus—M.L. King College, near the southern radiation zone—but didn’t know each other. And in a stunning case a few weeks ago, my former science-lab partner Meg Manning was partnered with a slightly older man who was an engineering student in the northern region, near the Canadian border.  But more often than not, the computer was good about picking someone closer to home. Since girls and those who identified as women were never placed for Union before the age of 18, sometimes they had to wait until the person or people selected turned of age as well before their ceremony. But if they were the same age or older, the celebration often took place in a matter of days, just to get it over with so they could get on with getting to know each other.</p><p> </p><p><em> Getting to know each other. </em>  I giggle every time I hear that euphemism.  We had all been provided with a comprehensive guide to all types of sex when we were 16 as well as options for birth control, should we need it before our unions were chosen.  What “getting to know each other” really meant was finally being able to use our sexual knowledge with the person we would spend the rest of their lives with. I always thought that it was funny that sometimes, virtual strangers would start their relationship with sex, but then as Lilly says, what better way to get to know someone than seeing them naked? </p><p> </p><p>I’ve decided to wait until my career is firmly in place before I even consider starting a family with my spouse—that much I know for sure.  My mother said that when I was born, she and my father received $10,000 as a gift for procreating, for at the time, Novo Terra (also known as the former United States of America), had lost nearly 60% of its overall population to the war, or emigration to either Canada or Mexico during the conflict.  This was why <em> Orwell </em>was created.  To quote Lilly…“people needed to start fucking, or there would be no one for the New Democracy to lead.”</p><p> </p><p>Sometimes Lilly will send me articles that she’s found from her research trips to Canada about how life was before the war and I can’t imagine growing up back then.  It seemed that every day, there was an article about the terrible things that were happening in the world. Everyone seemed so focused on the wrong things that they all lost sight of what was right.  My dad said that after the war, the technological minds gathered together and used their resources not to bring back the old technology, but to refocus their sights on what mattered more—building super-computers to solve problems such as curing fatal diseases, innovations to save the environment, and rebuilding after the nuclear fall-out in both the eastern and southern zones of Novo Terra.</p><p> </p><p>But even though things are “better” now, I am always wondering, always curious about the old ways. I don’t know what it is, but there has always been this feeling in the pit of my stomach that even though things are different, people will always want <em> more </em>. And maybe I’m one of those people.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Looks like I have enough written to update this fic once a week and thanks to my lovely Beta and friend, Irma66, I should have enough chapters ready to post on Sunday for the next few weeks.  Thank you to her for her help with this fic.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <b>Veronica</b>
</p><hr/><p>Standing in the clothing department, my mother is practically vibrating, even as she tries to contain herself.  I know what she wants—she wants me to pick out an outfit for when I hear who I’ve been partnered with so we can have a union ceremony quickly before I leave for college at the end of the week.  Why I <em> wanted </em> to come here was I needed a warmer jacket for when I move across the country into a colder climate.  But while I’m over here, looking for something that could keep me from freezing this fall, she’s slowly making her way through the formal outfits, trying to catch my eye over the racks when she comes close to something she likes.  I’ve been ignoring her, or at least doing my best to try.</p><p>Right now, my concern is packing for college.  From what I hear, there is limited space for anything and if I get partnered and shuffled into double-lodging, it will be even less because I’ll have to share my closet, my bathroom, my desk, my bed…</p><p>I catch the bile in the back of my throat and choke it back.  Once again, I close my eyes and wish to be paired with someone I know.  The list is growing in my head of acceptable candidates. Duncan would be fine, as would Casey Gant who was in my history class.  I wouldn’t even mind Eli Navarro. His first match rejected him, choosing instead to lead a life on their own rather than marry him.  When word spread, I felt so bad and hoped that someone would be matched with him before he headed off to structural engineering school.  But as of now, it looks like he’ll be making the trek solo.</p><p>There are some people who make my skin crawl and I most definitely would rather choose to live alone for the rest of my life than create a union with them.  Troy Vandergraff was on my debate team last year and kept saying he was going into I.T. and that he would hack <em> Orwell’s </em> code and pair us together, which gave me the creeps.  Thankfully Dick Cassablancas, the king doofus of the school, has already placed his preference for polyamory, like Logan, so I’m safe.  His kid brother, Cassidy, used to creep me out by following me around the school until Lilly told Dick to tell him to knock it off. He would be too young to be paired with me right now, but still, if that were to occur, I would definitely reject that match.</p><p>Mom says there’s no point in speculating, but trying to solve this puzzle helps my brain comprehend the next steps.  Prepared. I want to be mentally prepared. Up until this everything has worked out pretty well for me by just being prepared.  I’m prepared for school, prepared for my career, prepared for life. As my dad says, life is simpler now—just follow the rules set out and everything will work out as it should.  I need to have faith and trust that the system will continue to work.</p><p>“Veronica, dear…” My mom touches my arm and I jump nearly out of my skin.  </p><p>“Jeez, Mom!”</p><p>“I’m sorry if I startled you, but you were just standing here, staring at the coats…”</p><p>“I’m fine.  Just deciding.”  I grab the black winter coat closest to where my hand fell and hug it close to my body, avoiding my mother’s glance.  “And there. Done. Let’s go.”</p><p>“But Veronica, I want you to pick out one more thing…”</p><p>
  <em> Here it comes. </em>
</p><p>“A dress or a nice pantsuit for your union ceremony.”</p><p>My exhale sounds more like a groan and I cringe at my lack of control of the inflection.</p><p>“Mom, it doesn’t have to be fancy.”</p><p>“I know, but it would be nice to have something, well, <em> nice. </em>”</p><p>“What’s wrong with this?”  I spread open my arms, exposing my white jeans and a plain white t-shirt.  “It’s white. Isn’t that the colour people used to wear?”</p><p>“Veronica…”</p><p>“Mom…”</p><p>“Can you please humour me this time?  Don’t make me bribe you with ice cream like you’re a five-year-old.”</p><p>“For one, I humour you <em> all </em> the time, mom.”  I toss my hair over my shoulder and glance over towards the formal section.  “For another, I thought we were picking up ice cream on the way home anyway? It’s my birthday tomorrow which means ice cream and waffles for breakfast.  That’s the tradition.”</p><p>“Yes.  The last year of the tradition as well.”  My mother tosses her own long blond hair over her shoulder and smirks at me.  “I’ll have to teach your partner how to make them for you for next year.”</p><p>There goes my stomach again, flipping and flopping like a dying fish on the shore.</p><p>“Nope.  You’ll have to come across the country and do it next year.  He won’t mind, I’m sure of it. Just remember to knock before you come in that morning, okay?”</p><p>Joke.  Deflect.  Maybe she’ll leave me alone.</p><p>Instead, her hand wraps around my bicep and gives me a pull. I let it all go, allowing her to lead me around the racks until we are across the store and standing in front of a rack of formalwear. She reaches into the lines of fabric and pulls out a soft blue dress with a sweet-heart bodice.  My nose wrinkles and she sighs and puts it back. The next one is a pink one-piece summer jumper with spaghetti straps and wide palazzo pants. I shake my head and she puts it back too.</p><p>“Let me just look, Mom.”  I step forward and she moves away, her palms up in mock defence.</p><p>“Whatever you want, Veronica.  This is your special day.”</p><p>I roll my eyes as I start to flip through the outfits.  “Special day, huh? Signing a piece of paper is a special day?”</p><p>“Veronica Mars, you know it means more than that.”  Her voice is snippy over my shoulder and I register that this is one thing I will not miss when I move. “You're about to meet the person you are meant to spend the rest of your life with.  That’s a huge, huge deal.”</p><p>“I know it is, Mom.  You don’t have to point it out, trust me, I get that this is a big life deal.  But so is becoming a lawyer and eventually a judge. That’s an even bigger deal.  I can have an impact on the entire country with my job. That's an incredible thing and whoever the guy is that I get matched with had better understand that or I’m rejecting him right off the bat and doing this life all on my own.  Just me and my vibrator living happily ever after.”</p><p>“Veronica!”</p><p>“What?  It’s true.”  Laughing, I turn to face her, enjoying the shade of red she is turning.  My generation has been talking about sex for most of our teenage lives. I still enjoy that my mother has her prudish generation’s ideas lodged in her brain from time to time.  “Maybe <em> Orwell </em> will pair me with that instead?  Is that a thing? Can that happen?”</p><p>“Ver-on-i-cahhhh…” she hisses and I continue to laugh, turning back to the rack.</p><p>“I’m kidding, mom.  I’m sure it will all be fine and I’ll be paired with a wonderful man who will be the perfect partner in all ways.”</p><p>My eye catches a peacock blue fabric in the racks and I pull it out, the satin fabric swishing as the skirt opens.  It has a high neck but sleeveless and I glance at the size to make sure it will fit.</p><p>“This one.  I think this is a pretty one.”</p><p>I hold it against my body as best I can with the coat in my other hand and spin around towards one of the mirrors on a pillar.  The blue of the fabric catches the blue in my eyes and I can’t help but smile at my reflection. I can pair it with a simple pair of sandals I have and it would be a nice outfit, even if I don’t go through with the union ceremony.</p><p>“Oh Veronica, it’s gorgeous.”</p><p>“Yeah, it is, Mom.”</p><p>
  <em> What will my partner think of this outfit?  </em>
</p><p>My brain balks.  This is a new sensation to think about what a virtual stranger will think of my choices.  Up until this point, the people with the most influence in my life have been my family and Lilly.  Even though Logan and Duncan hung out with us, they wouldn’t really be considered an <em> influence </em> per se.  Duncan was usually quiet, deferring to Lilly or Logan’s naturally outgoing natures, and Logan wouldn’t care if I was in a paper bag or a fancy dress.  </p><p>It was Lilly and her stacks of old magazines filled with what was once called <em> couture </em> outfits who thought my choices of simple, understated clothes were boring.  I mean, it wasn’t like we had a lot of choices like they once did. I’m lucky that this one dress was in my size, because there wasn’t another.  In economics class, they taught us that part of the ramifications from the war was the loss of international trade partners, which meant we were last in the international supply chain.  “Canada’s castoffs” is what Logan called our current fashion in his term paper for that class. Somehow though, Lilly always manages to make what we were left with look fabulous, cutting up t-shirts and layering them in cool ways, or asking me to sew a pair of pants with my mother’s sewing machine so they were just a little tighter.  I just wear what I wear like I found it on the rack and consider myself lucky to find it at all.</p><p>Mom scoops the jacket and then the dress from my hands, tossing a wink over her shoulder as she walks towards the register, a smirk of self-satisfaction on her lips.</p><p>I may tease her, but I'll miss my family when I move.  Mom says a parent is supposed to get on their child's nerves—that's their job.  But for all my mother's poking and prodding about what I should and should not do, my father is the opposite, just content to love.  I'm ashamed to think it, but I will miss him most. You're supposed to love your parents equally, but things are just different with my dad.  His calm and easy ways, despite the pressure of his job, puts me at ease. More than Mom. More than Lilly. More than anyone could. And the truth is, part of me hopes that whatever man I end up with tomorrow has those qualities. A man that can go through hell and back and still know exactly who they are.  If he exists, I hope he is paired with me, but right now, no one I know would fit that description. Not in the least.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Many thanks to Irma66 for her Beta skills on this chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <b>Veronica </b>
</p><hr/><p>Right now, the only thing keeping me upright is my father’s arm as we walk down the hallway together.  Mom is on the other side of him, keeping up a persistent nervous chatter that I tuned out at some point on the car ride over.  The sound of her own voice may make my mother feel better, but it is doing nothing to help me deal with my nerves. As always, my dad has been a rock, quietly guiding me through the day.  </p><p>The cup of coffee he placed in front of me at breakfast had a small shot of Irish whiskey in it, and he chuckled when I nearly spit it out upon discovering the harsh, bitter taste in my mouth.</p><p>“For your birthday and your nerves,” he said with a wink before returning to his seat across from me and digging into his waffles and ice cream.</p><p>He was right.  It gave me just enough of a buzz to soothe my nerves so I could take a shower and get dressed with a little peace from my thoughts. </p><p>Alcohol and drugs are tightly controlled by the government. They can’t be purchased from a legal vendor without two forms of I.D.—our government-issued identification and either a college I.D. or driver’s license once a person turns eighteen —and even then, the quantities are tracked and limited.  But there were ways around it. Logan and Lilly’s families seem to always have more alcohol on hand than ours. But in Lilly’s case, three adults could legally buy and therefore, it stood to reason that they would have more. Sometimes we would pour shots into our lemonade and walk to the beach to watch Logan and Duncan surf.  Or sneak some from Logan’s father’s stash, filling the vodka bottles with water in the hopes that no one would be the wiser. Once, Logan managed to snag some pot from a source he wouldn’t name, and we all smoked it. They still make fun of me for falling asleep in Logan’s bed about thirty minutes after it kicked in and not waking up until morning.  Duncan didn’t fare any better with it, and they found him in the bathtub, using a bunch of towels as a blanket and pillows.</p><p>Dad’s pace slows, and I refocus to the present, glancing at the names on the glass doors as we approach.</p><p>Unions and Ceremonies, it says in gold lettering on the frosted glass doors, and we pause.  Through the glass, I can see two service windows -- one that says “Unions” above and a door next to it, another that says “Ceremonies” and a door.  There are office chairs along the perimeter, and some people sit on the side of the “Ceremonies” window, well dressed and obviously waiting for their time to sign their papers.</p><p>“Ready?”  Dad pats my hand, and I look up to see a tight smile pulled across his face, even though his eyes are shaded with worry.  </p><p>I take a slow breath in through my nose and ready myself, nodding to him, and he returns the gesture.  With a little tug on my arm, he gives me his inertia, and we walk through the door together, with my mom hurrying behind.  As we approach the “Unions” window, the woman behind the counter smiles, her eyes sparkling with happiness. She was obviously someone who enjoyed her job.</p><p>“Hello!  Welcome!” She holds out her hand.  “May I have your government, I.D., please?”</p><p>I nod, letting go of my father’s arm and reaching into my purse.  Last night, I tucked my I.D. into a little zippered pocket just inside my bag, so I was prepared for this question, and now, I extract it and hand it to her as she continues to grin.</p><p>“Excellent, Ms. Mars.  Happy birthday and congratulations today!”</p><p>I feel my expression pucker at the presumptive congratulations and hear my mother giggle over my shoulder.</p><p>“Thank you so much.  We’ve been looking forward to this day for some time,” my mother says, and my head jerks around to scowl at her. But it’s lost as her expression matches the pure joy of the stranger now in charge of my fate. </p><p>My hand instinctively reaches for my dad’s and he grasps it, his moist palm pressing against mine.  It feels like everything inside of me is shaking, even if my body stays perfectly still. Is this what my mother felt, before finding out she was paired with my father?  Is this what she has wanted me to experience, the sheer terror mixed with excitement at the prospect of finding a life partner? Is this really better than going out and choosing a spouse for one’s self?</p><p>“Just come through the door and have a seat in room number three.” The woman presses a button on her desk and the door buzzes and unlocks with a loud click.</p><p>
  <em> Is it locked to keep people out or keep people in? </em>
</p><p>“Thank you,” my father responds and leads me through. </p><p>I’m numb as we make our way through the hallway, pausing for a split second as my father opens the door to office number three before leading me inside.  The pale blue room has four chairs on one side of a desk and another large chair on the other. There is a tall window with plants on the ledge and I remember how my mother told me that this was once a high-school before it was repurposed as a government building.</p><p>“Have a seat, sweetheart.”</p><p>Nodding to my father, I sit in a chair in the middle as he takes a seat on my right, my mother on my left.  She still has a wide grin as she catches my eye.</p><p>“Isn’t this exciting! I mean, in the blink of an eye, our family is about to grow!”</p><p>My stomach tightens further.  “Yes, well, before you even say it, there will not be grandchildren, Mom. Not for a while.  I don’t care what the government will pay me.”</p><p>My dad pats my arm.  “No one says you have to have children, Veronica.  And that can be a term of accepting this match or rejecting it.  Remember, you have twenty-four hours to decide to accept the match or continue on your own.”</p><p>And there it is, the voice of gentle reason.</p><p>“Thanks, Dad.  I know, but I appreciate the reminder.”</p><p>The door opens and I nearly jump out of my skin at the sight of a different woman from the first, smiling at us.  My eyes shift to the folder in her hand and suddenly, calm washes over me. The nerves are gone; the stomach loosens.  Everything just vanishes into a sense of peace as I watch her take a seat across from me and place the folder on the desk.</p><p>“Ms. Mars, my name is Sherri and I’ll be your Union Advisor.”  I nod and force a smile and she continues. “Now, I printed your match and a courier has been sent to advise the person of the match.  They will know by the time you leave this office. The next step is to meet with them and if you agree to the match, you need to inform me within the next twenty-four hours.  From there, we will set up a time for you both to come in and sign the documents. If you reject the match, I need you to still come in and sign some papers, so your profile and DNA are deleted from the system, so you do not get matched again.  Understood?”</p><p>“Yes.”  I nod again, still listening, but my eyes are still fixed on the file.</p><p>“If at any time, there is a situation of abuse, assault, or infidelity, you must report it immediately to the government and you will be granted a divorce.”</p><p>I shiver.  As a judge, I will eventually preside over these situations but it still feels long enough in the future that I can push it out of my head.</p><p>“If there are other problems, you can apply for a government-assigned therapist who can help you work through the issues with your spouse and come to an understanding so you can both continue.”</p><p>My eyes finally move, darting between my father and mother.  I remember a time when the therapist was over at our house every couple of nights, after I went to bed, speaking in hushed tones with my parents about whatever problems they were having while I listened through the vents.  It obviously worked because they were still here together today.</p><p>“Other than that, we stand by <em> Orwell’s </em> match based on your personality profile, DNA, and other screening factors.  It is now up to the individuals to make the unions work. For two decades, we have made perfect matches for the people of Terra Nova, helping society to grow and flourish.”</p><p>I’m pretty sure that last bit was a line she was supposed to say to make everyone feel better, but I still nod my understanding.</p><p>“Now, if you’re ready…” She opens the file and my breath catches in my throat.  “I will inform you of your partner.”</p><p>I grab my father’s hand and squeeze it.  Everything is happening in slow motion as Sherri pushes my I.D. towards me, licking her finger as she flips the page, scanning it for the name.  It may be seconds but it feels like hours before her mouth opens and she starts speaking again.</p><p>“Ms. Mars, based on your preference for an opposite-sex union with one partner, you have been paired with….”</p><p>I close my eyes.  <em> This is it. </em></p><p>“…Logan Echolls.”</p><p>“What?”  This can’t be right.  “What do you mean, Logan Echolls?”  My brain is back online, clicking at a frantic pace. </p><p>“Oh, honey!  This is wonderful!” my mother gleefully states, grabbing my other arm. </p><p>“But…but…Logan…he’s….”  A friend? A debate sparring partner?  A future politician with the charm of a snake?  “…Logan.”</p><p>I can feel my breathing speed up as tiny dots blur my vision.  He told us all he said he wanted a polyamorous relationship. Is this a computer glitch?  Has <em> Orwell </em> lost its mind? Or did Logan lie?  And if so, <em> why </em> did he lie?</p><p>My dad places his hand on my back as I tilt forward, placing my hands over my eyes.  “It’s okay, Veronica. You don’t have to decide right now. We’ll meet with Logan and his family and…”</p><p>The giggling starts from my belly, a low vibration that moves through my body, across my lungs and falls from my lips, high and sharp.  I drop my hands and sit back in the chair, allowing the laughter to fill the room. I know. I now know. For some reason, I’ve been paired with the high school jackass.  Thoughts of Logan giving teachers attitude during classes, his snarky comments about other students over lunch, his willingness to break the rules at any small opportunity.</p><p>Covering my mouth with my hands, I close my eyes, trying to stop myself before I lose my breath.  Sherri looks unfazed and simply closes the file, standing and nodding at me before exiting, closing the door behind her.</p><p>“Veronica!  This is wonderful!  Lynn and Aaron Echolls are lovely people and it will be…”</p><p>“Mom…” I gasp through my trailing laughter.  “Not now. Please. Not now.”</p><p>“She’s right, Lianne.  Let’s all just sit and collect ourselves before we head home.  There, we can discuss this and call the Echolls family to arrange a meeting tonight over dinner.  I’m sure they are processing this news too.”</p><p>
  <em> Logan Echolls. </em>
</p><p>Just thinking his name almost sets about another round of nervous giggles but I control myself, working hard to steady my nerves.  </p><p>
  <em> Logan Echolls. </em>
</p><p>The boy who I met when I was twelve and came to all my soccer games with Lilly and Duncan, cheering for us all.  The one who also tossed me in the ocean when I was thirteen and then had to dive in to save me when a wave pulled me under.</p><p>
  <em> Logan Echolls. </em>
</p><p>The guy who was supposed to have selected a polyamorous relationship.  But instead, here we were, partnered together.</p><p>As I stand, I push back the chair and my parents rise too, both looking shocked at my sudden movement.  “We need to go home and call the Echolls. Immediately. I need to talk to Logan before any decisions are made.”</p><p>Snatching my I.D. off the desk, I shove it in the back pocket of my jeans, pushing the chair out of the way to get to the door.  I pull it open and march through the hall, leaving my parents to catch up. At the entrance to the outside, I grab the handle and it doesn’t move.</p><p>
  <em> It’s locked from the inside to keep people from running. </em>
</p><p>The woman at the desk catches my eye and still smiling, presses the button to let me out.  I hear her call out as I make my way quickly through the waiting area.</p><p>“Good luck, Ms. Mars and again, happy birthday!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Posting a few hours early on Saturday night since a few readers expressed that they were bored and needed some reading.  Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <strong>Logan</strong>
</p><hr/><p>My bags are already by the door. Three days—four if you count living through today—and I am gone. Out of here. Vamoose. Sayonara. Don't let the door catch my ass. Plane leaves Friday at 9:00 p.m. to take me all the way across the country and away from this lunatic house.</p><p>Part of me feels bad to leave my mom with Aaron but really, she's part of the problem too. He hasn't beaten me in a year, but it's been no thanks to her. Put on a little more bulk lifting weights at the gym and got the upper hand on him the last time he tried. Threatened to break that movie star nose of his next time he tried and now he leaves me alone. At least he leaves my mom alone, physically anyway. Mentally is another matter.</p><p>When we were sixteen, the whole Union Ceremony was explained to us in class and we all filled out our forms for <em>Orwell</em> soon after. That's when I realized that my mom could have stopped this all just by threatening to leave him. One mention of abuse to the government and she would have been granted an instant divorce. But she didn't. She won't. And the one time I tried to report him to a teacher in sixth grade, the teacher disappeared and we moved to Neptune that summer. The government says that every person is taken care of now. The problem is that humans are still humans, motivated by the same things: greed, lust, success. I once asked Lilly to look up what happened to the teacher I reported it to, when Lilly was up in Canada using their resources. She said the woman was made the principal of a school in the northern region. That was greed and success. Wouldn't be surprised if Aaron slept with her too for good measure.</p><p>I roll over and glance at the clock. Almost 10:00 a.m. Wonder how much longer I can lay in bed before anyone notices? Plans for the day include a shower and a tug, then get dressed and head over to Duncan's to help him pack since he still can't decide what to bring with him to college. The downside to polyamory is three parents hovering over you. Duncan didn't tie his own shoelaces until he was ten. The decision as to what sweaters to bring across the country is killing him.</p><p>Need to remember to swing by Veronica's today as well. It's her birthday and she was going to find out who she was partnered with today. Figured a bottle of champagne and flowers were a fitting gift for today.</p><p>I gotta say, I'm really curious about who she'll be partnered with—have been for a while now. Veronica is this strange combination of someone who is very naive and still super smart. Book smart, I guess. If it wasn't for Lilly's influence, I'm pretty sure she would have never tried the few vices we've convinced her to over the years. A little bit of pot. A little bit of alcohol. But when we all decided to go skinny dipping one night on a deserted stretch of beach, she stayed on the shore. Even Duncan got in with his underwear on. She likes to think of herself as very open-minded, but she has a prudish streak. Which is why when Lilly and I were fooling around, we kept it a secret (and truthfully, it made it even hotter.)</p><p>Who am I kidding? I'm really going over to Duncan's so I can be there when it's announced that Veronica has been paired with him. Duncan Kane, that's who my money's on. I can just see both of them working together, side by side, to make this world a Better Place™.</p><p>I mean, I kind of want to make this country better, which is probably why <em>Orwell</em> put me on a political path, but I'm not so overt about it. Subvert from within is my style. Duncan and Veronica always made a big deal about the clubs and volunteer organizations they belonged to in high school. Meanwhile, every Wednesday night, I quietly went over to the veteran's hospital and read to the old guys or listened to their stories about life before the war. My mother once pointed out it was Aaron who likes to make a big deal about helping others, while she preferred a quieter approach. I tend to agree with her.</p><p>Duncan's a pretty lucky guy. Veronica is smart and hot, a winning combination in my books. Guess I'll have to take her out of the tug rotation once she's partnered. Lilly is still fun to think about, especially when I throw Sabrina in the imaginary mix, but Veronica's going to be married to my best friend so will definitely be off limits. Eventually. Maybe one more round of fantasy sex in the shower this morning, before that happens. Scenario Veronica-B2: that's the one where she steps into my shower in that pink bikini she borrowed from Lilly one day at the beach. The way it rode up in the back just enough to show the beautiful curve of her ass. She kept trying to pull it down but every time, it just rode up, so eventually, she just left it.</p><p>Fuck. And just like that, I'm hard. Guess it's time for that shower…</p><p>Just as I'm sitting up, I hear the doorbell ring. Kind of early in the day for someone so probably some sort of delivery for my parents. Stretching, I yawn and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Wonder how long it will take before my tan fades?</p><p>My mom calls out my name, high and excited, although muffled past the door, and I frown at my reflection.</p><p>"LOGAN!"</p><p>Again and now footsteps coming from two directions. Grabbing the blankets, I cover my boner, keeping my eyes on the door.</p><p>She doesn't even bother to knock, bursting in and nearly tripping on her four-inch heels. Aaron is right behind her, looking angry and confused.</p><p>"What are you yelling about, Lynn?"</p><p>"This!"</p><p>My mother raises a shaky hand containing a blue and green envelope with the official Government seal embossed on the front.</p><p>It's a match. For a second, I can't move. I turned eighteen in March and from that point, I've been waiting to hear who I've been paired with. Guess today must be the day.</p><p>"Give that to me." Aaron reaches out and snatches the envelope from my mother. Before she can argue, he steps into my room, sneering at me as he approaches. "Well, well. Looks like we're about to see what <em>boy</em> our son got placed with."</p><p>I try not to roll my eyes. Aaron plays like a supporter of all genders and pairings in the limelight. Behind the scenes, he's still an old fashioned bigot. Mercifully, school has taught this generation better than his.</p><p>He waves the envelope closer and I grab it, keeping my eyes on his. The twinkle in his eye tells me he's amused by my reflexes, probably taking credit for them by keeping me on edge for most of my life.</p><p>Glancing at the document in my hands, I flip it over and read my name, hand-written with my address. It's crazy to think that my life will change in this instant based on what is on a piece of paper. But during the war, millions of people woke up on the edge of the eastern zone one day and went to work, never knowing that at 11:30 a.m., their lives were going to be obliterated by a nuclear bomb. Shit changes in the blink of an eye all the time, why should I be immune?</p><p>"Open it, Logan." My mom sits on the edge of the bed and leans over, placing her hand on my shoulder.</p><p>Taking a cleansing breath, I flip over the envelope and slide my finger under the seal, opening the flap. Pulling the white piece of paper out, I unfold it, surprised at the amount of words in the letter. Scanning quickly, I find the name…</p><p>"Veronica. Mars."</p><p>My stomach tightens and for a second, I think I may throw up on Aaron's shoes.</p><p>"Oh my god!" My mother gasps. "Keith Mars' daughter."</p><p>Aaron's chuckle starts small and I'm not sure if it's good or bad until he slaps me happily on the shoulder.</p><p>"You son of a bitch, you lucked out, Logan." Aaron continues to laugh, puffing up his chest. "Do you know what this means? Our family is now connected to the man in charge of the Safety System! This is fantastic! One of the most powerful men in the Western Region is now going to be <em>family</em>."</p><p>My mind is turning faster than it's ever moved trying to comprehend it all. Not Duncan. Me. Veronica Mars was paired with me. Logan Echolls and Veronica Mars. Forever.</p><p>"Fuck."</p><p>I go limp and drop back onto the bed and stare at the white ceiling, trying to make sense of it all. Why would she get paired with me? We're totally different people. There was no way this would work. But somehow, it's supposed to…</p><p>The phone rings and Aaron claps his hands. "Ah! Maybe that's the Mars family now?" He nearly skips out of my room and relief rushes over me, momentarily disrupting the numbness.</p><p>"Logan? Are you okay with this?" My mom places her hand gently on my chest. I can smell alcohol on her already and wonder if it was in her coffee or orange juice.</p><p>"Am I okay with this?"</p><p>Aaron lets out a boisterous laugh from the other room and I know he's probably talking to Veronica's dad. The sound of his tone as his voice drops is the same one he uses for voice-overs of his documentaries.</p><p>I close my eyes. Veronica in braids and her soccer uniform, covered in dirt, bounding up to me after a game. Veronica trying to control her emotions during debate club, but unable to hold back the fire in her eyes as she looks at me, her opponent, with silent rage. Veronica laughing until she has the hiccups when I start doing my impression of Ms. Shultz, our uptight algebra teacher.</p><p>Then there's Veronica, the one from my fantasies. The role she plays in my head, not of my partner, but only as a lover. My heart aches as I realize the girl I have lusted over in my mind is about to become my partner in life and for some reason, all the dirty things I've ever thought about her make me ashamed.</p><p>"I'm...I'm fine with this, mom."</p><p>Opening my eyes, I see her smile down at me. She pats my arm and rises.</p><p>"Good. Then I'll let you get dressed for the day."</p><p>I nod and she leaves, closing the door and blocking out Aaron's voice completely. Staying in place, I continue to stare at the ceiling, controlling my breathing as I focus my eyes on the bumpy stucco.</p><p>That's when it comes. The terrible thought.</p><p>
  <em>What if she doesn't want me?</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks as always to the lovely Irma66 for her help with this chapter.  Happy Easter!  Happy Passover!  Happy extra-long-weekend to all!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <b>Veronica</b>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>I can’t stop moving. Right now, my entire closet is on my bed as I try and focus on finishing my packing, but this decision still feels like some giant mountain I need to scale.  As soon as we got home, Dad called the Echolls house, and I disappeared in here to hide and think.  Or overthink. Whatever.  </p><p> </p><p>The packing was supposed to distract me, but when I saw the underwear I packed, and had the thought that Logan may someday see me in my plain white cotton panties, I proceeded to dump the whole drawer on the ground, trying to find the cutest pairs.  But then I realized that he may not ever actually see me half naked if I don’t get the answers I want and call this whole debacle of a match off, and started shoving the most comfortable pairs back into my suitcase.   In the middle of the panty packing problem, Dad stuck his head in my room to tell me the entire Echolls family would be over in about an hour, wrinkled his nose at the mess I had made, and retreated.  </p><p> </p><p>Now with Logan on his way over, packing seems even more critical because Logan and Duncan and I are supposed to be on a plane in a few days, headed to college, and I’m still not ready.  This is the one absolute in my life now—leaving for college. To leave for college I have to be packed so as long as I can manage to do that by the time he shows up, then everything will be fine.  Control. I am one-hundred percent in control.  </p><p> </p><p>But then again, Logan probably isn’t packed either, so why am I worrying?</p><p> </p><p>I hide my face in my hands and let out a deep, long groan.  If I don’t stop thinking soon, my brain’s going to liquefy and leak out my ears, I’m sure of it.  Lilly told me that I had to call her immediately, but I can’t bring myself to pick up the phone.  Not yet.  Not until I talk to Logan and make a decision. I love Lilly, but I need to make this decision on my own. She’s not the one who has to commit herself to Logan, I am, and it has to be my choice, just like my father said to me on the way home.  Since he’s already eighteen, we can get the papers signed tomorrow.  If we sign the papers. And then we’ll have to call the school to get our living arrangements swapped for partnered living instead of single, so when we get there, it will just be us, together, in one small space.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Logan will see me naked. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>My stomach flips, but not in the usual way as my body heats up.  This is not the response I expected from that thought.  Stepping in front of the mirror, my eyes skim my body.  I’m in jeans and a pink t-shirt I found when I dumped out my closet.  It’s a little tight, and I raise my hands to rest on my head, allowing it to rise up a bit, showing off my flat stomach.  But it’s my breasts I’m more concerned with.  I had been hoping they would be more prominent by the time someone saw me naked, but now they don’t even amount to a handful. I shouldn’t care, but for some reason I do.  Probably because Lilly developed much faster than me, and I got to watch as both boys and girls ogled her in the halls at school.  There was a decided lack of ogling at me, especially by Logan.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll have to see <em> him </em> naked.”</p><p> </p><p>That last thought is spoken to my reflection, and my body heats up more.  I mean, the boy is not ugly, that’s for sure.  He wasn’t what you’d call ripped, but he did have a good body from what I could tell. He was pretty anal about sunscreen and wearing swim shirts and wet-suits, saying his movie-star mom was always worried about skin cancer and wrinkles (but not necessarily in that order.)  The only time I ever saw him naked was when he ran into the sea, the night he and Lilly and Duncan went skinny-dipping.  I sat on a rock, with my hands over my eyes in protest that they were doing this to me, but I did manage to see Logan’s muscular butt cheeks catch the ironic full moonlight as he ran towards the sea.  He must have known that I was watching because he tossed a wink over his shoulder at me that night like he was proud to be showing off. The cheeky bugger.</p><p> </p><p>“And I’ll be Ms. Cheeky Bugger.”</p><p> </p><p>My face contorts, and I stick out my tongue at my reflection.  Veronica Mars and the high school Psychotic Jackass were joined in union.  Ms. Psychotic Jackass, I presume?  Table for the Jackass family? All rise for Judge Jackass.</p><p> </p><p>“Ugggghhhhh.”  </p><p> </p><p>Stepping back until my legs hit the edge of the bed, I drop back onto the pile of clothes on the mattress and let out another groan of emotional distress as I cross my arms over my eyes.  Lilly was absolutely thrilled with her match.  Why the hell did <em> Orwell </em> choose to torture me?</p><p> </p><p>“Veronica!”</p><p> </p><p>My dad is calling out through the house, which means the Echolls must be here.  I will myself to roll off the clothes and stand, taking another quick look in the mirror before shuffling off through the door.  My bedroom is towards the back of the house on the main floor, and as I come down the hallway, I can hear Mr. Echolls projecting as if he was on stage in a theatre.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, this is certainly a momentous day for our families, isn’t it, Keith?”</p><p> </p><p>“Why yes, yes it is, Aaron.”  Dad glances at me over his shoulder and clears his throat as I enter the room, stopping near the archway into the living room.</p><p> </p><p>Ignoring everyone in the room, my eyes lock on Logan, and he holds my gaze for a split second before he looks away, his face heating up as he shoves his hands in his pockets.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He’s as terrified of all this as I am. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The anger and confusion that was festering in my belly subsides slightly as I approach him, and it’s not until I’m standing next to my father that Logan looks up again.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey.”</p><p> </p><p>Awkward silence spreads through the room, and all the eyes of the parents fall directly on me. I feel like they’re all waiting for me to hug him or kiss him or do something to give them all an indication that I want to go through with this match.</p><p> </p><p>Glancing around the room, I finally notice Aaron, holding a giant bottle of what looks to be champagne, and the thought of how on earth he got those dances through my head.  Lynn and my mom already have drinks in their hands, and I wonder if Mom made herself a drink the minute we got home or if she poured them in anticipation of Lynn’s arrival?</p><p> </p><p>“Um…can we talk…privately?  In my room?”  I refocus on Logan for the moment, figuring the adults could take care of themselves.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Am I one of the adults now? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Yes!” Logan exclaims, but as he moves towards me, his father’s hand clamps down on his shoulder, halting his movement.</p><p> </p><p>The giant toothy smile Aaron flashes sends a shiver down my spine.  I can't quite place why, but there is something…ominous…as he stares at me, smiling but with piercing, almost probing, eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Now, Veronica…I know that there is a big decision to be made, but let me say that Lynn and I are in full support of Logan’s acceptance of this match.”</p><p> </p><p>My dad clears his throat and steps closer, angling himself between Aaron and me in just such a way that makes me feel protected.  Protected from what, I'm still not sure.</p><p> </p><p>“And Veronica knows that her mother and I are completely in support of her if she does <em> or does not </em> approve of this match, Aaron.”</p><p> </p><p>And there it was.  For a split second, I see a flash of rage cross Aaron’s face before it subsides.  It was the same look I saw on Logan’s face once or twice when he got a little too worked up in debate club.  But never did I think he would harm me or whomever he was arguing with.  I’m not so sure about Aaron, though.</p><p> </p><p>Reaching out my hand, I offer it to Logan, and he takes it, sweaty palm to mine, and his fingers nearly crush my hand as I pull him ever so gently away from Aaron’s grasp.</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll be back.  Everyone start drinking without us.”  </p><p> </p><p>With a glance back at my mom, then my dad, I continue to pull Logan down the hallway and into my room, quickly closing the door behind me.  Removing my hand from his, I wipe our combined sweat off on my jeans as he walks further away from the door, trying to step around the clothes on my floor, and I follow. Meeting him towards the back of my room near my open closet, where I’m sure no one can hear our conversation from the other side of the door.</p><p> </p><p>“What the hell, Logan?”  I hiss, poking him in the shoulder with my finger, and he flinches.</p><p> </p><p>“What the hell?  I don’t know what the hell! Why are you asking me?  I’m not <em> Orwell </em>.”  </p><p> </p><p>“I thought you put down that you wanted a<em> polyamorous </em> relationship?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh. That.” He crosses his arms and looks away, his cheeks growing red.  “I lied.”</p><p> </p><p>“Pft.  Obviously!”  My voice starts to rise, and I mentally dial it back a bit.  “Why did you lie?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know!  We were sixteen and hanging out with our friends, and when Dick said he wanted two women, I thought that it would sound cooler than just a plain, old monogamous match with a girl.”</p><p> </p><p>“Jesus, Logan!  I mean, I can see why Dick put that down because frankly, it’s going to get two women nagging him for the rest of his life for him to actually do anything set out for him, but why did you have to copy it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you want an answer other than because I was sixteen and horny all the time and thought that two women in my bed forever would be a really nice fantasy?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ughhhh….”  My head lolls back as my palms cover my eyes.  I fight the urge not to call him an idiot.</p><p> </p><p>“Look, I may have said it, but I didn’t actually do it because that’s really not what I want.  What I <em> do </em> want is one person, a woman, to be my partner for the rest of my life, okay?  Are you happy that I want the usual, hetero-normative relationship that has brought us to, well, <em> this </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>He sweeps his hands in front of him, and for a second, I remember my room is utterly trashed, and he’s standing in the middle of it.  But that’s not the issue at hand.  I decide to ignore his rhetorical question and move on with my questioning.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay…so you lied about that…”  I begin to pace, making sure not to get too close to the door or too far from Logan as my mind turns.  “Is there anything else I should know that you’ve lied about before I make my decision?”</p><p> </p><p>He runs his fingers through his hair and gives a huff of frustration, and I know enough about him to know that whatever he’s about to say is going to be big, so I stop and wait, chewing on my thumbnail as he takes his sweet-ass time getting to it.</p><p> </p><p>“I…Lilly and I…” Another huff and a sigh and he focuses on me with this super intense look, and I think one of us will burst into flames before he starts speaking again.  “Lilly and I used to have sex, and we kept it from you, because, well…we didn’t think you’d approve.”</p><p> </p><p>My mouth goes dry as my lips part, unable to say anything.  Lilly.  And. Logan. Sex. My brain cannot connect the pieces.</p><p> </p><p>“We both knew that it could only be sex because, well, <em> Orwell </em> has the final decision on who we are matched with, which is why we kept it from you.  It was just fun.”  He crosses his arms again and looks away. “I mean, yeah, I may have had some feelings for her, but she was also fooling around with Molly Fitzpatrick, so she clearly was just in it for the experience more than anything.”</p><p> </p><p>"But then...what was the point?"  I finally have found my words, but they are strained and bitter.  "Why do it then? I don't know anyone who has sex before their match because, like you said, what's the point?  I mean, what if you fell in love, or got pregnant, or caught some sort of disease like the ones we learned about from before the war...the ones that ate at your brain!  Seriously, Logan, was it worth the risks?"</p><p> </p><p>Logan purses his lips, nodding his head slowly, as a grin creeps across his face.</p><p> </p><p>"Veronica...everything good worth trying is worth the risks.  The problem is, you've never wanted to try.  You've always been content to be wherever the world or your parents or the government has placed you."  He steps toward me, and my pulse quickens at the proximity.  "The question now is whether you think <em> I'm </em> worth the risk."</p><p> </p><p>I've suddenly forgotten how to breathe as Logan looks down on me from his natural height, a foot taller and at least several inches broader.  For a second, the softness in his eyes makes me think he'll kiss me, but he makes no move.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm not forcing you to accept me, Veronica.  I'll never force you to do anything you don't want.  But if you choose, we can sign the papers and go off to college and live a very chaste life together.  If that means for the rest of our lives, I'm fine to continue this life with you as your friend who happens to live with you.  And if we get to the point where you eventually want more, then that's fine too.  But I want you to know, I'll respect you and your decisions, Veronica."</p><p> </p><p>For a moment, my brain is lulled into beautiful contentment by his words before I start thinking again.</p><p> </p><p>"Force me?  To do what?"</p><p> </p><p>He chuckles in a way that makes me think I said something ironic, and he shakes his head.</p><p> </p><p>"Veronica...do you really think Meg Manning willingly chose to uproot her life and move to be with someone?"</p><p> </p><p>Actually, I did, but I say nothing.</p><p> </p><p>"I do believe most people are appropriately matched in scientific theory, but the reality is our society has put us in the hands of some man-made fates that are being enabled by people who give it too much credence. In this case, Duncan overheard Meg's mother tell his mother that they forced her to accept the match and continue in the partnership, because it was <em> 'Orwell's </em> will',  even though her partner was forcing her to do some pretty strange things in the bedroom."</p><p> </p><p>"But that's illegal...she can report him!" </p><p> </p><p>Logan tosses up his hands and shrugs.  "That's up to her. If no one knows, it isn't happening.  Even the gossip is just hearsay if she’s too afraid to tell."</p><p> </p><p>Naive.  Logan and Lilly always tease me about being so naive.  I thought all the reading and research I did taught me so much, but right now, I feel like I know nothing.</p><p> </p><p>"You have twenty-four hours to decide, Veronica, so it doesn't have to be right now.  Think about it—whether you want to stay single for the rest of your life or be with me?  It's all up to you."</p><p> </p><p>With that, he steps past me, trying to avoid the piles on the floor again as he makes his way to the door.  On the way, he stops, noticing the collection of underwear on the ground and smirks, shaking his head. </p><p> </p><p>“Wait! I have one more question.” Slowly, I follow, kicking clothes out of my path as I move towards him.  “Kids. Do you want to have kids?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well,” he licks his lips and gets that jackass grin that I know so well and I realize I’m in trouble.  “That assumes that you’ll consent to us having sex in the future.”</p><p> </p><p>The thought of us lying naked in bed together flashes through my head.  I hope he can’t see as my skin flushes, but I don’t move, don’t change my expression. I don’t want him to see what he’s done to me as heat pools in my belly.</p><p> </p><p>He continues with a chuckle and a nod.  “Someday, yes, I would actually like to have a kid, but not until we’re both ready.”</p><p> </p><p>With that, he continues on his way, opening the door and walking into the hallway.  The voices outside the door quiet, and I wonder if it's a good thing or a bad thing. </p><p> </p><p>I give myself a moment to let my colour return to normal before following him back into the living room and I realize everyone is now talking in hushed tones, champagne glasses in hand.  Aaron's hand is on Logan's shoulder again, and I can feel the tension between them as I approach.</p><p> </p><p>"I've made my decision."  The words spring so quickly from my lips that I shock myself, and I have to pause to catch my thoughts.</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, Veronica. What have you decided?"  My father steps away from my mother, his eyes wide with concern.</p><p> </p><p>"I've decided to go through with the match."  I exhale.  "We can sign the papers tomorrow and leave for college on Friday night as planned.”</p><p> </p><p>Aaron claps his hands, laughing loudly, and my father jumps slightly, jolted from whatever he is thinking.</p><p> </p><p>"Wonderful!  This is fantastic!" Aaron continues, raising his glass.  "And after, I will pay for you both to spend the next day at the Neptune Hotel, so you can both <em> get to know each other </em>better."</p><p> </p><p>"Jesus, Dad." Logan runs his hand over his face, obviously embarrassed by his father's offer.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, Aaron."  Lynn giggles drunkenly, and my mother hides her grin. </p><p> </p><p>The only one not laughing in the family is my father.  Instead, he's glancing from Logan to Aaron and back to me.  I can feel him asking me silently: <em> is this really the family you want to join with? </em></p><p> </p><p>My stomach flips, then flops, and I really, really need a drink. I avoid my father's eyes by walking over to the coffee table in the middle of the living room with the alcohol sitting on top and begin to pour the champagne into one of the two flutes beside it. Once I'm done with mine, I pour the other and pick it up along with mine and turn to offer it to Logan.  Relief passes across his face, and he comes over to take it from me.  With his back to the rest of the room, he nods as he takes the glass from me and gives me a tight smile.</p><p> </p><p>"Thank you."</p><p> </p><p>And I know he probably means for the alcohol, but I feel like it's also for accepting the match.  Gathering myself, I reach out and take his hand. He gives my fingers a little squeeze before his hand relaxes into a comfortable grip.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> So maybe Mr. and Ms. Not-So-Jackass then. </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks to everyone who voted on Twitter.  Looks like I will be updating in a random and anarchistic fashion since I took the vote for "time has no meaning" over Saturday or Sunday to do just that. lol</p><p>Special thanks to Irma66 for her Beta help with this chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <b>Logan</b>
</p><hr/><p>Aaron just won’t shut up.  All the way home, he’s been blathering on about what a <em> prize </em> Veronica is and what a lucky guy I am to get a partner as beautiful as she is and on and on and on.  Mercifully, I have the road to focus on and not the ramblings of my self-important, drunk father and mother.  Although Mom knew enough to stay quiet during these periods. It came from years before the war when they had a big house and a chauffeur, and she knew enough not to make trouble in front of anyone who could gossip and tarnish their image.  Now, everyone is paid a standard living wage from the government, as we are all equal, which means they needed to wait to get a chauffeur again until I turned sixteen and could take on that role. My older sister, Trina, did it for a while, but she buggered off the minute she was paired with two partners.  Aaron has to bite his tongue once a year when they all come for a visit.</p><p> </p><p>While I can ignore my own father, what I can’t overlook is the way Mr. Mars was eyeing me through that entire awkward gathering.  Growing up, whenever we were all at Veronica’s house, hanging out in the back yard with her dog Backup, Mr. Mars was friendly and would even join us occasionally, showing us the tricks he’d taught Backup over the years.  Now, he looks at me like one wrong move and he’s going to feed me to a pack of Backups in a remote area, where no one can hear me scream. He has every right—he really doesn’t know me and he only knows my family socially from the functions and events hosted by the government where heroes still paraded and shared stories of life before and after the war.  All he knows now is that I’m going to be the one who <em> gets to know </em> his daughter…if she ever lets me touch her, that is.</p><p> </p><p>And for all the times I’ve fantasized about Veronica in the past, now I’m numb from the waist down at the thought of touching her.  Now, it’s different. The way she held on to my hand the entire time we were at her house, while she nodded pleasantly at the stupidity of my father and the twittering of our mothers about the future, it all just felt different.  Lilly and I had a crazy intense relationship, partially fueled by the secrecy of it all, but Veronica…I still don’t know. I’m still trying to process that she said yes at all after I told her everything.</p><p> </p><p>The car coasts up the driveway and I park, taking out the keys and handing them to Aaron before I exit quickly, trying to avoid any further conversation.  I just need to get inside and hide. Collect my thoughts.</p><p> </p><p>“Logan!”</p><p> </p><p>Glancing towards the voice, I realize it’s Duncan, standing on the front porch.  What is he….?</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, shit.  I’m sorry, dude!”</p><p> </p><p>Jogging towards him, I fish my house keys out of my pocket, trying to get us both inside faster than my parents can stagger.  </p><p> </p><p>“I waited for you, Logan, and when you didn’t show and didn’t return my calls, I figured I should come and see what’s up.” </p><p> </p><p>I grab Duncan by the arm as I come past and try to drag him up the steps, but my father’s voice calls out again across the lawn.</p><p> </p><p>“Logan was meeting with his betrothed!”  Aaron laughs, slamming the car door. “Looks like he’ll be married off by tomorrow.”</p><p> </p><p>“Married is what you got, dad,” I mutter as I struggle with the key in the door.</p><p> </p><p>“What?  Wait? You got matched?”  Duncan places his hand on mine, stopping me from turning the key and I sigh, resigned that this was going to happen here.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.  Yeah, I did.”  Standing straighter, I look my best friend in the eye, knowing full well I’m about to break his heart.  “I got partnered with Veronica.”</p><p> </p><p>I watch Duncan’s soft face go slack, his dark eyes glaze over.  For a second, I think I may have blown out his cerebral cortex, but then his hands rise to grip his hair, his face getting red.</p><p> </p><p>“You…you couldn’t…not <em> my </em> Veronica….”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, for starters, she’s not <em> yours </em>…she’s no one’s…”  I correct him and his whole body begins to vibrate.</p><p> </p><p>“No.  This must be a mistake.  She’s a better match for me, not you.”  His round face contorts in a way I only saw once, when he caught me sneaking out of his sister’s bedroom one afternoon when we were supposed to be at school.</p><p> </p><p>“Not according to <em> Orwell </em>, buddy.” I shrug.  “Apparently, I’m her match.”</p><p> </p><p>“Isn’t it great, Duncan!” Aaron is now on the porch near us, my mother coming close behind.  “Logan really lucked out, I tell you.”</p><p> </p><p>Duncan’s nostrils flair and his hands come down, and I legit think he’s going to punch me, but instead, he shoves them in the pockets of his khaki’s.  “Yeah. He did,” is all he musters before turning and stalking down the steps, ignoring my parents as he passes.  </p><p> </p><p>There’s a moment of silence as we all watch him walk quickly to his car, throwing himself into the driver’s seat and slamming the door so hard the whole thing vibrates.  The engine roars to life and he takes off, tires squealing, nearly hitting another car coming down the street in the process. My mother gasps at such a display from the normally placid Donut. Having seen his tantrums before, it doesn't surprise me but my stomach still tightens and twists.  </p><p> </p><p>I knew Duncan wanted to be paired with Veronica.  He’s had a stupid crush on her for most of our lives, but didn’t make any move, putting his faith in the fact that <em> Orwell </em>would eventually pair them together.  And he wasn’t wrong. They had a similar temperament—smart and in control and driven to be better.  I’m still kind of at a loss as to why she was paired with me or even why she agreed.</p><p> </p><p>The phone rings on the other side of the door and Aaron shoves me aside, completing the operation of turning the key and letting himself in.  I wait for my mother as I hear him stomping through the house to answer the phone and she gives me a soft smile and touches my cheek, glassy eyes twinkling at me.</p><p> </p><p>“I think <em> Orwell </em> picked just right,” she whispers and then proceeds into the house.</p><p> </p><p>Considering how well her chosen match has gone, I actually find this comforting.  Maybe <em> Orwell </em> saw past the bullshit and got right to the heart of the matter, so to speak.  Who is biologically compatible and who just wasn’t. My parents had to find out that they weren’t and live with the consequences.  At least <em> Orwell </em> had some science behind the process. </p><p> </p><p>I follow and find my father walking towards me, a smirk on his face as he talks into the hand-held phone.  “Yes. He’s right here now. I’ll pass you over, Lilly.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Oh.  Shit. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Panic rushes through me and I wave off the phone as Aaron pushes it my way. </p><p> </p><p>“Take it,” he hisses, his eyes narrowing and I realize I’m a fool.  There was no way Lilly would brush this off. I heard the phone ring a few times at the Mars residence and Veronica finally answered it, telling the person on the other end that she couldn’t talk before hanging up again and returning to hold my hand.  It was obviously Lilly and between not hearing from Veronica and probably hearing from Duncan when I didn’t show up, she’s chomping at the bit for gossip.</p><p> </p><p>Taking the phone, I exhale long and loud.  “Hold on, Lil. I want to get to where it’s more private.”</p><p> </p><p>Not waiting for an answer, I cover the mouthpiece, ignoring my father’s glare as I quickly march past him to my bedroom and shut the door.  </p><p> </p><p>I can hear her chirping, “Logan!  Logan!” as I bring the receiver to my ear.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I’m here.”</p><p> </p><p>“What the hell’s going on over there?!  I’ve been waiting all day for Veronica to call me about her match and when I tried to call her, she told me she couldn’t talk, and when I called Duncan to see what was happening he said that you disappeared too.”</p><p> </p><p>Dropping onto the bed, I fall onto my back and close my eyes, wondering if Lilly will connect the dots as she says everything out loud.</p><p> </p><p>“And then when I tried to call <em> you, </em> all I got was your voice mail, so I’m assuming that you know something about what’s going on and maybe even you were at Veronica’s for some reason, even though I’m not sure what that reason could be but…”</p><p> </p><p>“Lilly…if you stop talking for a second, I could tell you exactly what’s going on.”</p><p> </p><p>A huff and a sigh from her and I can almost picture her sitting on the edge of my bed, rolling her eyes at me.  “Fine. What? Did Veronica get paired with some sicko and you had to go calm her down?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, Lilly.  Veronica got paired with me.”</p><p> </p><p>A beat of silence preceded the gasp, followed by a high shriek of laughter.  “Oh, my God!”</p><p> </p><p>As her laughter continues, I sit up and move the phone away from my ear, trying to save my eardrum.  I give her a moment to at least try to compose herself before I continue.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m glad you find this all so amusing.  I’ve already seen your brother—he’s devastated.”</p><p> </p><p>“Pfft.  The only person that thought Duncan was a good match for Veronica was Duncan.  But you got paired with her, Lover, and it’s absolutely perfect.”</p><p> </p><p>Glancing at my reflection in the mirror, I roll my eyes at myself.  “Enlighten me, Lilly. Why is this absolutely perfect? Because Veronica definitely has her doubts.”</p><p> </p><p>“This is perfect because you are exactly the kind of man that can keep her from completely turning 100% no fun for the rest of her life.  I mean, come on, you know how serious she was in school. The only time she ever let her hair down was when she was with us and you were a part of that.  If she’s supposed to be a Judge one day, she needs that kind of balance in her life and for that, you are absolutely, positively perfect for providing that balance in every way.”</p><p> </p><p>My cheeks go red with embarrassment at the compliment.  “I never thought of it that way, Lil. Thanks.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’ll also teach her that there are better ways to orgasm than with that vibrator of hers.”</p><p> </p><p>“And again, I thank you,” I reply with a chuckle.  “But right now, sex is off the table. This is going to be a very chaste arrangement—two friends, signing a contract to spend their lives together.  Nothing more.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing ‘more’ my smooth white ass…”  The image of Lilly’s aforementioned body part runs through my head but I push it aside to focus on her words.  “Look, <em> Orwell </em>just handed you both the opportunity of your lives.  You’re both friends, both healthy, and both hot! There needs to be some seriously wild sex happening, pronto, or it’s just a waste of a match.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not guilting or goading her into anything she’s not comfortable with, Lilly.”</p><p> </p><p>“And I’m not saying you should.  I’m saying I will.”</p><p> </p><p>“Lilly!  Don’t!” I’m on my feet as if I’m going to fight her, even though she’s many miles away.  “Just please trust me when I say that she’s not ready and leave it at that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is <em> she </em> not ready or are <em> you </em> not?”</p><p> </p><p>That one catches me by surprise because when I was sneaking around with Lilly, there was never a time when I wasn’t entirely ready for anything and everything she wanted from me.  But with Veronica, it was different. I don’t know why, but the thought of having sex with her just seemed…different.</p><p> </p><p>“She’s my friend, Lilly,” is all I can think to reply.</p><p> </p><p>“I was your friend first, too, remember?  And you had no problem having sex with me when I suggested it.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not the point.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then what is your point?  And don’t forget to answer my other question while you’re at it…”</p><p> </p><p>“My point…my point…”  That I’ve been fantasizing about her since I was sixteen?  That I never in a million years thought that I deserved someone like her?  That I don’t want to screw this up and end up in daily therapy with some government agent?  That I didn’t want her to leave me? “My point is that this is all her choice and if her choice is to take things slowly and see how everything unfolds, then I’m not going to pressure her and you shouldn’t either.”</p><p> </p><p>Silence greets my response and I know I’ve hit a nerve with her because she’s finally just stopped, a sure sign that Lilly is listening.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine.”  I can’t help but admire my Cheshire grin in the mirror.  It’s not every day I win an argument with Lilly. “So, when you get off the phone with me and call her—like I know you’re going to do—just be chill about it all okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.  I’ll be ‘chill’ Logan.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, and by the way, she knows about us,”  I add quickly and pull the phone away from my head, expecting the explosion on the other side. When it doesn’t happen, I check to make sure I can still hear breathing on the other end.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course you did.  Of course, you told her.  Because you’re obviously going to be one of those couples that keep nothing from each other.”  Her tone is slightly biting, and I wonder what’s been going on with her and Sabrina lately, but that conversation is for another day.</p><p> </p><p>“She asked me if I had any secrets and I figured it was best to lay it all out on the table now, instead of having her find out later.”  Logan glanced at the door, hoping no one was on the other side listening. “You know I have enough secrets. Let’s get the easy ones out in the open before she discovers any more.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, well, if you had reported any of it…”</p><p> </p><p>“Stop it, Lil.  Just stop.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine, fine, fine, Lover.  Mums the word. Just don’t keep too many of your secrets locked away.  Some of them are good. Like the secret of that thing you do with your tongue when I’m…”</p><p> </p><p>“Aaannd on that note, you’d better call Veronica, Lilly.  I know you’re just dying to anyway.”</p><p> </p><p>There’s a little snort of laughter from her end and I’m back to smiling again.  The great thing about Lilly is she never stays mad for very long.  </p><p> </p><p>“Alright, then.  I’ll call her. But you stay safe over there.  Aaron was doing his charming voice when he picked up the phone, but you know that doesn’t always last long.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know, Lilly.  But he has to be careful…tomorrow I participate in my Union Ceremony.  Wouldn’t want any marks on me that may appear in pictures or seen by my partner that night.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmmm…good point. Then enjoy your last night as a single man.  Don’t tug too hard, or it’ll fall off.”</p><p> </p><p>“Goodbye, Lilly. Say hi to Sabrina for me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Bye, Logan.  I will.”</p><p> </p><p>I disconnect the call and toss the phone on my bed, shaking my head.  For two best friends, Lilly and Veronica were almost polar opposites. But somehow, it seemed to work.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Maybe it could work for us too. </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><hr/><p>
  <b>Veronica</b>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>I know it's Lilly.  The phone rings again and my hand shakes over the receiver.  I put her off once today and I know she'll probably be pissed, but I just needed time.  <em> Guess my time's up now. </em></p><p> </p><p>"Hello?"</p><p> </p><p>"Ver-on-I-cahhhh!" Lilly coos.  "Happy birthday, best friend!  So...what's new?"</p><p> </p><p>Ugh.  The tone of Lilly’s voice and the fact that she isn't giving me shit for not calling means she <em>knows</em>.  I imagine her dramatically flipping her long blond hair as she prepares to slowly torture me in the way that only best friends could.</p><p> </p><p>Now the real question at hand...did she find out from Logan?  Or Duncan? Or did her mom's gossip channels really move that fast? </p><p>  </p><p>"Oh, you know. This and that."</p><p> </p><p>"This and that, huh?"  </p><p> </p><p>She seems satisfied to play this game for a moment or two, so I go on.</p><p> </p><p>"Yep.  Packing for college.  Cleaning my room…" </p><p> </p><p>Neither of which is true.  In fact, I was just lying on my bed in a makeshift nest between all the scattered clothes, absently staring at the ceiling, trying to process everything as the bubbles from the two glasses of champagne still tickle my brain. </p><p> </p><p>"Well, how nice.  A little advice?  When you're packing, be sure to pack that pink bikini I gave you.  I'm sure Logan will <em> love </em> to see you in it again."</p><p> </p><p>And there it is.</p><p> </p><p>"Thanks for the advice, Lilly. Since you slept with him, I guess you'd know what he likes best." The snark in my voice surprises me, but I don't take it back.</p><p> </p><p>Lilly just laughs.  "He told me he told you."</p><p> </p><p>"I was wondering how you found out."</p><p> </p><p>"Well, I thought I would find out from my best friend, but instead, I had to chase down an ex just to learn that you had been matched."  </p><p> </p><p>Ouch.  There's the anger I was initially expecting. I shove some clothes off my bed so I can roll onto my stomach and prop myself up on my elbows.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry, Lilly.  It was all just a lot to process.  I mean, this is Logan.  He's the last person in the world I thought I would be compatible with."</p><p> </p><p>"You're not overthinking this, are you?"</p><p> </p><p>I bite my lip.  She knew me too well.</p><p> </p><p>"Shouldn't I be?  I always thought I would be paired with someone smart and conservative, someone driven and serious…."</p><p> </p><p>"Boring!  You thought you would get someone boring.  Like Duncan."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I mean, she wasn't wrong. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Maybe."</p><p> </p><p>"Well, Logan is definitely not boring, inside the bedroom or out."</p><p> </p><p>I wince.  Here it comes.  The thought that has slipped in and out of my head since Logan left.  <em> What exactly happened between Logan and Lilly? </em></p><p> </p><p>"Really, Lilly?  If he was so great, then why didn't you ever tell me about him?"</p><p> </p><p>She makes a gagging sound.  "Oh 'Ronica.  Jealous is not a good look on you."</p><p> </p><p>"Wait?  What?!  Jealous of what?"</p><p> </p><p>"I don't know.  Jealous of Logan and me?  Jealous that I had something and you didn't?"</p><p> </p><p>"You're out of your mind, Lilly."  I flip back around and sit up, raring for a fight. "I'm not jealous.  I'm confused and hurt that two of my friends didn't think I would understand that they had a relationship.  I'm mad that I had to find out this way.  And I'm upset that I'm going into this union with my partner already more <em> experienced </em> than me!"</p><p> </p><p>I take a breath to try and control my anger, but find myself vibrating nonetheless as I continue, trying to form coherent thoughts. </p><p> </p><p>"Lilly, I always imagined that when I <em> got to know </em> my partner that we would be strangers but we would learn about each other and laugh and talk and figure all that out together and that's what would solidify our bond.  With Logan, I don't have that.  I know him already.  But he also <em> knows </em> you in a way different way than just knowing someone as a friend. And there's something about it that is just so incongruent with what I always imagined this would be like that I just don't know what to do. You know?"</p><p> </p><p>There's a soft sigh on the other end of the phone and I feel like Lilly is gearing up to ‘big-sister’ me with one of her lectures.  The downfall to being one year younger than my best friend.</p><p> </p><p>"Veronica, I am sorry that it didn't turn out the way you thought it would, but please don't let my relationship with Logan be a hindrance to your union. I want you to have the experience of learning all about Logan, just like you said, so all I'll say is that there is so much more to him than what you saw at school.  I could go on about how and why, but that's still for you to discover, so please, don't let go of <em> what could be </em> quite yet.  Just be happy that you were paired with someone who I know truly cares about you from the start, okay?"</p><p> </p><p><em> God, I hate when she's right </em> .  Lilly always assumes she was right, even when she’s disastrously wrong. Her <em> actually </em> being right makes her incorrigible.</p><p> </p><p>"Okay.  I will."</p><p> </p><p>"Okay, you will...what?"</p><p> </p><p>"I will be happy I was paired with Logan.  For now."</p><p> </p><p>"That's my girl! Now I promised Logan I wouldn't talk about it but whatever…" she pauses for dramatic effect, letting out a deep sigh and I roll my eyes safe in the knowledge she can't see me.  "...so what's with this plan not to have sex with him?"</p><p> </p><p>"I...wait...is that what he said?"  My blood pressure spikes like I'm an old lady on a treadmill. "Because he's the one that said we could have a <em> chaste </em> relationship."</p><p> </p><p>"So you <em> do </em> want to have sex with him."</p><p> </p><p>The memory of Logan making fun of my pink unicorn t-shirt at school last year floats through my head.  Logan putting Duncan in a headlock and making him admit he's seen his sister naked.  Logan giving Dick a joint after he took Logan's "dare" and lit his fart on fire outside in the quad during lunch.</p><p> </p><p>"I...don't know...maybe?"</p><p> </p><p>"Pfft.  What kind of answer is that?"</p><p> </p><p>"The answer of someone who's watched him be the school jackass most of his life."</p><p> </p><p>Another deep sigh from Lilly.  "Veronica...he's so much more than that."</p><p> </p><p>"I'm sure he is, Lilly, but right now, I just want to take it slow and if he's offering that, then I'm accepting. I mean, really, we're stuck together for life, so it’s not like we can leave."</p><p> </p><p>"Well, you can, you know."</p><p> </p><p>My face contorts.  "What do you mean?"</p><p> </p><p>"I mean, there are ways," she starts slowly, hesitantly.  "You can cheat and get an automatic divorce.  You can lie and tell the authorities he hit you.  Or you can just leave and go to Canada or Mexico and let him divorce you."</p><p> </p><p>"But...I…who does that?"</p><p> </p><p>"Some people, Veronica. Some people do." She pauses and I wonder what is going on with her and Sabrina.  "But the government covers it up.  That's why the therapy...to try and save their numbers and make it seem like <em> Orwell </em>is perfect."</p><p> </p><p>I don't know how to respond with anything more than silence.</p><p> </p><p>"So if it is truly terrible for you at some point, there are ways to quietly get out.  I only say that, though, just in case."</p><p> </p><p>"In case...?"</p><p> </p><p>"In case he turns out to be more like Aaron than Lynn.  I love you, Veronica, and that is the only reason I'm saying this now."</p><p> </p><p><em> Wait...what? </em> More like Aaron, how?  Whenever I encountered the Echolls in their home, they were always pleasant enough.  Today was the first time I ever really noticed an underlying creepiness—an air of dominance—from Aaron, but when I was thinking about it after, I just chalked it up to the strange situation we all found ourselves in. </p><p> </p><p>"Lilly...what are you saying?"</p><p> </p><p>"I can't say anymore more, but I want you to know that the Logan I knew...intimately...was passionate and caring and funny and smart, and I hope that's the Logan you get to know."</p><p> </p><p>I open my mouth to question her, but a knock interrupts and Dad sticks his bald head into the room, grinning. "Hey, birthday girl!  When you're done... we're ready to head out to Mama Leone's for a celebratory dinner."</p><p> </p><p>"Okay, Dad, just give me a…"</p><p> </p><p>"...I'll let you go.  Happy birthday and good luck at the signing ceremony tomorrow, Veronica!  I love you."</p><p> </p><p>The phone disconnects before I can answer and I'm left holding the receiver, staring at it as the dial tone fills the room.  </p><p> </p><p>"We'll be waiting for you in the kitchen." My dad nods and closes the door and I'm left alone again.</p><p> </p><p>It takes me a second to regain my senses.  If I ever believed that talking to Lilly would make things seem clearer, it was obviously a mistake because now, I'm just more confused.  I thought that I was paired with someone I knew.  </p><p> </p><p>But maybe I don't know Logan at all.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Posted mid-week as a present to the very lovely and talented JMazzy.  HAPPY BIRTHDAY J!!! ❤</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <strong>Veronica</strong>
</p><hr/><p>I was able to escape my mother for three glorious hours before I had to get home and get ready for the ceremony.  When I woke in the morning, I lay in bed for an extra hour, trying to avoid her exuberance for the day, but as always, my stomach got the better of me, and I had to finally give in and make my way to the kitchen.  Dad had gone into the station so he could get some things done before the ceremony, so it was just my mom, sitting at the kitchen island, waiting for me.  There was bacon still warm in the oven and fresh scrambled eggs and toast to enjoy as she fussed around me, talking lightly about what a wonderful day it was.  She then surprised me by informing me she booked me in for a "full Union Ceremony treatment" at her salon in an hour and that I needed to stuff myself with food as I was scheduled to be occupied for the majority of the day.  After I got over my shock at the unexpected luxury, I quickly showered and changed into a pair of tights and a light sweater and grabbed the keys to my mom’s car, insisting that she didn’t need to come with me.</p><p> </p><p>When I got there, I found out the salon package was a “head-to-toe” procedure, which made me twitchy.  I allowed the French manicure, pedicure, and hour-long massage, but there was no way in hell that they were allowed to come anywhere near my legs or nether-regions with hot wax, thank you very much.  There was a moment, though, when I sat in the chair and the stylist asked, “what style do you want for your ceremony” that I replied with, “cut it off.”  That’s how I walked out with a neat new bob, with long bangs and soft lines framing my face.  My mother looked like she was going to cry when I arrived home without the majority of my hair, and I simply said that a new life required a new hairstyle and proceeded back to my room.</p><p> </p><p>My mother was so shocked by my hair that she never even noticed the bag I was carrying from the lingerie store and when I was alone, I dumped the ten pairs of new underwear I purchased onto the bed.  It had been a spur of the moment decision as I passed the store in the mall and remembered my stash of dull underwear.  While there wasn’t a vast selection, I did find some cute boy-cut pairs in varying colours, a few lace ones, and one thong, just because I had never tried it. Right now, I just enjoyed the idea of wearing them myself, knowing what was underneath it all.</p><p> </p><p>I emerged a little later in the blue dress we purchased at the beginning of the week and light makeup, ready to sign the documents that would partner me with Logan.  Since we were apparently going straight to the hotel his father booked after a celebratory dinner, I carried a small purse and my backpack. While I wore the white cotton underwear under my dress, I did choose to pack the black lacy lingerie.  My mind still wavered about what Logan would see me in tonight, but at least I was prepared.</p><p> </p><p>Now, once again, my father’s grip steadies me as we walk down the hallway to the Union Office as my mom hurries behind us.  Gone are the butterflies, though, replaced by a resolve that came to me while I sat in the hairdresser’s chair, watching her cut off my long locks.  The childish Veronica—the naïve Veronica— is gone.  I’m about to be partnered with a man, hopefully for the rest of my life.  I’m about to venture out of the security of my home and family and chart a new course in my life, set out for college to fulfill my destiny to become a lawyer and Judge.  All of these things will take resolve and focus and courage to accomplish.  Signing the papers to join in a union with Logan is just one of the boxes that need to be checked to achieve my goals.</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t have to go through with this, you know.” My father’s voice is so low that I almost don’t hear him above the echo of our shoes as we walk down the hall.  “I know that I said I would support you no matter what, and if that means we leave now, it’s up to you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Keith!  How can you…?”</p><p> </p><p>His pace slows as he ignores my mother. “I’m serious, Veronica.  This is still your choice.”</p><p> </p><p>We come to a dead stop just beyond the sight of the office and I take a deep breath, trying to find the right words to reassure my father that my one big choice in life has been made by me.</p><p> </p><p>“Dad, I’ll be fine.  I’ll be more than fine.  Logan is a friend, and I know that whatever happens, he will have my best interests at heart, as my friend.”  I lean over and give him a soft kiss on the cheek.  “And, if it ever is not fine, I know I can always come to you.”</p><p> </p><p>That’s when I see a crack in his emotional armour, a flash of sadness wells up in his eyes before he covers, bending his head, so his service cap shades his face as he kisses my cheek then forces a tight smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Good.  Because you know I have access to people who can open the gates of the Southern Radiation zone so…”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, I know.  No evidence.  Corpse eaten by toxic waste.  I get it.”</p><p> </p><p>“That goes for Echolls Senior as well.”</p><p> </p><p>“Keith!”  My mother smacks his arm, catching the brass shield of his uniform, and she winces.  “Those will be our relations soon.”</p><p> </p><p>Dad clears his throat, shaking his head.  “Lianne, you know I’ve never been a fan of Aaron’s.  There’s just something about him that sets my nerves on edge.”</p><p> </p><p>“Dad, I’ll be fine,” I reassure him, putting my hand on his for comfort.  “Logan and I leave on Friday, and we won’t return until Winter Break so I won't even see Mr. Echolls again until Christmas.  Everything will be fine.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know you will be, Veronica.  I know.”</p><p> </p><p>With a nod, he resumes his steps towards the office, and I fall into place next to him, right foot left foot in time all the way there.</p><p> </p><p>As we approach, I can see the Echolls family milling about through the glass doors, Logan’s back to the hall, but the minute my father opens the door for me, Logan turns, his eyes wide for a moment as he watches me approach.  A touch of red catches his cheeks, and he looks down, adjusting the cuff of his blue suit over the crisp white shirt underneath.  He doesn’t have a tie on and his shirt collar is open just enough so I can catch a glimpse of his tanned collarbone underneath.  When I’m a few feet away, he looks up again, greeting me with a soft smile as he runs his fingers through his hair.</p><p> </p><p>“You look beautiful.”</p><p> </p><p>The compliment throws me and my cheeks flush.  “Thank you.  You look pretty great too.”</p><p> </p><p>“At least I get one more spin out of my graduation suit before we leave.”</p><p>                                                                                                                                                                            </p><p>He offers his hand, and I place mine in his palm as his fingers curl around.  A tingle runs up the length of my arm at his touch, and I momentarily think that if this is as close as we ever get, then I would be happy with this.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, the suit looks good on you.  And we kind of match, both of us in blue.”</p><p> </p><p>Those deep brown eyes of his skim down my body, and I feel exposed as he takes in everything from my hair to my sandals.</p><p> </p><p>“I guess we do.  I like your hair too.  It’s a great cut.  Makes you look like a lawyer already.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks.  That’s exactly what I was going for.”  I laugh, and he smiles the kind of smile that spreads across his entire face, creating deep grooves in his cheeks and a twinkle in his eye.</p><p> </p><p>“Mars and Echolls.” We turn and see a woman standing at the “Unions” counter, staring at us through the plexiglass. “We’re ready for your appointment.”</p><p> </p><p>Aaron claps his hands so loud I jump slightly, and he rubs them gleefully.  "Wonderful!  Let's get this show on the road, shall we?"</p><p> </p><p>"You seem very excited by this union, Aaron," my father states.  "Were you this excited when you married Lynn?"</p><p> </p><p>I know my father is trying to make a joke, but it sounds like he's fishing for information, and I glance between the men, waiting for Aaron's reaction.</p><p> </p><p>Without missing a beat, Aaron wraps his arm around Lynn's shoulder, and they flash bright white grins at everyone. "Why, yes.  Marrying Lynn was the happiest day of my life, with possibly the exception of when we adopted our foundling daughter, Trina.  Oh, and the day Logan was born."</p><p> </p><p>Logan snorts and turns us towards the counter, pulling me with him.  I catch his eyeroll in the reflection in the plexiglass and file the reaction away in my brain. The woman on the other side just grins wildly at us, and I wonder if being overly enthusiastic is a job requirement to work here.</p><p> </p><p>"Veronica Mars?  Logan Echolls?  Do you have your I.D.'s?"</p><p> </p><p>I pull mine from my purse as Logan hands his over from his wallet and the woman scans the barcodes then hands them back.</p><p> </p><p>"Place your left hand through the opening, one at a time, please."</p><p> </p><p>I stretch my hand awkwardly through the opening at the bottom of the Plexi, and the woman takes it, opening a pair of calipers and closing them around my ring finger.  Releasing me, she nods as I extract my hand and move out of the way, making room for Logan to do the same.</p><p> </p><p>"Your rings will be given to you once the papers are signed.  You can go in now and proceed to the room at the end."</p><p> </p><p>The mechanical buzz of the door opening alerts me to move again, taking Logan's hand as we make our way through the door, and pausing to keep it open for my parents and his to follow.  Down the white hall, we continue, and I remember taking this walk behind Lilly and her family on her Union day.  She was so excited that she practically skipped down the aisle, and I wondered if that would be what I was like on my day.  Suffice to say, skipping is the last thing I'm feeling like doing.  Possibly barfing or fainting is more in line with my emotions right now.</p><p> </p><p>At the end of the hall is the room, with the door removed and we continue inside to the old oak desk with papers laid out on top.  Across the back wall are a row of old pane windows, and with the sun starting to set, a beautiful pinkish purple glow fills the room.  The warmth of the room soothes my nerves, and I close my eyes and take a slow, cleansing breath.  When I open them, I catch Logan smiling at me, and I can't help but smile back.</p><p> </p><p>"Good afternoon, everyone." An older gentleman with dark sepia skin and silver curly hair hurries into the room, tossing on a black judge's robe over his shirt and dress pants.  "Sorry to keep you waiting."</p><p> </p><p>"Not a problem, Judge Simon," my father says, and I realize, of course, my dad would know him.  My father seems to know everyone.</p><p> </p><p>"Ah!  Keith!  Yes, I was wondering if this was your daughter when I saw the paperwork this morning." Judge Simon pulls two rings from his pocket and sets them on the table in front of the papers.  "Not many people named Mars in town."</p><p> </p><p>They continue to talk as the Judge readies himself, but I don't hear a word of it.  All I can focus on now is the simple gold bands that sit on the desk.  A leftover from the old days.  Before, there were expensive diamond rings, given as promises that women would eventually marry the person who gave it to them in a lavish ceremony witnessed by hundreds of friends and family.  Mrs. Echolls is one of the few women who I've seen who has such a ring.  There was no money for such things after the war and the government began handing out what were once called "wedding bands" as a visual representation that the person was partnered.  This was a symbol of Logan and my union, in delicate gold.</p><p> </p><p>"Veronica?" Logan's voice takes me out of my own head and back into the room. "Are you ready?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah.  I guess.  Sure."</p><p> </p><p>"That doesn't sound very confident," Logan mutters, frowning at me.</p><p> </p><p>"Of course she’s confident, son.”  Aaron leans in, his hand clamping down on Logan’s shoulder.  “Why wouldn’t she want to marry you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Veronica, if there’s something…” My dad steps towards me and rests his hand between my shoulder blades.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine!”  Shrugging, I pull away from my father’s touch and shift closer to Logan. “I was just caught off guard by the question.  That’s it.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s normal to have some nerves, Ms. Mars—” Judge Simons nods from the other side of the desk.  “—but it will be over with the stroke of a pen and then you can get on with your lives together.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>That’s supposed to reassure me?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Keeping my thoughts in my head, I give Logan’s hand a tug, and we approach the desk, both now focused on the task at hand.</p><p> </p><p>Judge Simons turns the two sheets of paper towards us.  Gold pens are lying near each document, and I pick up one while Logan picks up the other.  The Judge takes his black pen and makes three x’s on each page.</p><p> </p><p>“Ms. Mars, please sign where I have indicated by the x’s.”</p><p> </p><p>With a small nod, I release Logan’s hand and bend slightly to start the signing process.  My hand shakes as I make a large V on the line, pausing for a split second to steady myself before continuing.  As I sign, the Judge begins to speak again.</p><p> </p><p>“The act of partnering is a long-held tradition in Novo Terra, sanctioned by the New Democracy through the guidance of science and technology, for the betterment of our society.  Veronica Mars and Logan Echolls, may your union be a benefit to your lives and the lives of others.”</p><p> </p><p>They used to say “happily ever after” in the old days.  I feel like that was a lie even back then too.</p><p> </p><p>I finish the last signature and nod to Logan.  He flashes me a tight smile as Judge Simons makes x’s on the pages for him, and he starts signing one of the pages as soon as the Judge is done, leaning over and resting one elbow on the desk.  As I watch, I focus on the muscles on the back of his neck, long and lean as he moves slightly, the bones of his spine pushing against his skin.  A shiver runs over me as I realize I’ll be looking at him, analyzing him, memorizing him, for the rest of my life.</p><p> </p><p>He pulls himself straight and places the pen on the desk near the rings, his eyes still focused on the desk.</p><p> </p><p>“Logan, please pick up Veronica’s ring and repeat after me…”</p><p> </p><p>Logan does as he’s told and I offer my left hand to him.  When he takes it, his hand is cold and clammy and it makes me feel better that I’m not the only nervous one in the room.</p><p> </p><p>“...Veronica Mars, I take you as my partner, now and forever.”</p><p> </p><p>Clearing his throat, Logan focuses on my eyes.  There’s an intensity in them I’ve never seen before and my breath hitches as I try not to look away.</p><p> </p><p>“Veronica Mars…” his words are soft and slow and a calm settles over me at the mention of my name from his lips.  “I take you as my partner, now and forever.”</p><p> </p><p>For a second, I can’t move, focusing on the feeling of him slipping my ring gently down my finger.  When it reaches the end, I look down as it shimmers in the light.</p><p> </p><p>With a smile, I reach for his ring on the desk, and we shift our grasp, so I’m now holding his hand, his ring positioned near his clean-cut nails.</p><p> </p><p>“Veronica Mars, please repeat after me,”  the Judge continues.  “Logan Echolls, I take you as my partner, now and forever.”</p><p> </p><p>“Logan Echolls…” My mouth goes dry, and I cough a little to get myself going again.  “I take you as my partner, now and forever.”</p><p> </p><p>As I slip the ring over his muscular fingers, I take in the lines on his knuckles, the tan of his skin.  Someone in the room gasps as a small sob and I wonder whether it’s my mother or Lynn who has started crying, but I don’t change my focus.  When I’m done, I keep Logan’s hand in mine, and he reaches for my free hand, grasping it tightly as we take a fresh look at each other.</p><p> </p><p>My partner.  Logan is now my partner. And I am his.</p><p> </p><p>“By the powers invested in me by the Government of Novo Terra, I am delighted to pronounce that this union is now complete. Congratulations to you both.”</p><p> </p><p>A round of applause breaks out from our families and Logan closes his eyes, exhaling so hard I can feel his breath on my face and I laugh.  Wonder how long he’s been holding that in?</p><p> </p><p>“You know, in our day, we were asked to kiss the bride,” Aaron proclaims with a chuckle.  “How about one for old times’ sake.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes!” My mother claps with excitement.  “Just a small kiss for posterity.  To seal the deal, as it were.”</p><p> </p><p>“Lianne, Aaron, if the kids aren’t comfortable…” my father starts, but I shake my head at him.</p><p> </p><p>“No...I mean..it’s okay.”  The words fall from my mouth before I realize what I’m staying.  I just agreed to kiss Logan for the first time in front of everyone.  What the hell am I thinking?</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure?”  Logan’s looking down at me with concern.  “Because we don’t have to…”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s fine.  Let’s just do it, quickly, for them. Okay?”</p><p> </p><p>And just like that, time slows and all I can hear is my heart beating in my ears as Logan lets go of my hands, placing his palms gently on my cheeks, cradling my face in his hands.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Oh my God, this is it.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>I take a deep breath and close my eyes as I feel his breath near my face.  But instead of reaching my lips, his lips stop on my forehead, pressing softly against my skin.  I open my eyes just as he retreats, his expression a blank slate.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He doesn’t want me.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>My stomach tightens.  Of course, he doesn’t want me.  Why would he want me when he had Lilly.  Beautiful, sexy, smart Lilly.  That's why he offered a chaste arrangement for our union.  He doesn't find me desirable as a partner in the least. Tears prickle my eyes, and I blink them back quickly, so no one notices, dropping his hands as I turn to the group.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, folks, you got what you came here for.  Now let’s go to dinner, I’m starving.”</p><p> </p><p>Walking through the group, I hurry down the hallway, leaving everyone to catch up.  The woman at the front desk sees me coming, and she buzzes me out of the door just as my hand catches the handle.  Pulling the door open, I continue on my quest, trying to put as much distance between my family and me —both new and old—as I try unsuccessfully to get away from the thought in my head.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>My partner doesn’t want me.</em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you to everyone who has left comments.  I'm so sorry I'm so behind on replying but I will get to them eventually, I promise.  If you are part of the VM Fic Club Discord channel, please check out the new "Lead On Into Eden" discussion section if you have any questions or comments you would like to discuss (and receive a response a little faster than through comments.)  ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <b>Logan</b>
</p><hr/><p>Two hours into my union with Veronica and I've already messed up.  Not too sure how, but something is wrong, I know it.  The way she bolted from the building after we signed the papers.  How she avoided my eye at the restaurant, keeping chatter focused on everyone else and not us.  And when we were wished congratulations by the concierge when we checked into the Neptune Grande Hotel, she nodded and turned, beelining for the elevator.</p><p> </p><p>We ride up to the top floor in agonizing silence and my brain fluctuates between cursing at myself for whatever I did and entertaining the briefest thought that I could easily make her forget whatever it is I did if she allowed me to get near her, naked.  Because right now, with that short hair showing off the soft slope of her neck as she stands in front of me in this confined elevator space, all I can think of is how wonderful it would be to kiss her skin in a way that would make her gasp my name.</p><p> </p><p>Of course, when I see her naked, she would see me naked too and right now, I’m not all that interested in trying to lie to her about the origins of the scars on my back.  At least Aaron had the civility to put them in places where I didn’t have to see them every day and torture me even more.  But my partner will see them—something I found out with Lilly.  I’ve spent my whole life hiding them in public under swim shirts and wet-suits, you’d think I had the sense to hide them in private.  In my defence, when a hot naked girl pulls your shirt off in her bedroom, the thought of covering yourself doesn’t really compute.  I don’t see myself convincing Veronica not to tell her father like I was able to persuade Lilly.  And I have a suspicion that if I asked her to keep this secret, she’d leave me in a heartbeat, which is the last thing I want.  Right now, I just need time…time to get to know her and figure this all out before she finds out what a fuck-up I really am.</p><p> </p><p>The elevator pings and we come to a bouncing stop as the doors open to the hallway.  This used to be the penthouses for the hotel, before the war, but no one could afford them during or after, so they were converted to smaller suites.  You can tell by the odd offset of doors, placed in a non-linear fashion, that it had been retrofitted.  I follow Veronica down the hall to the last door and she pauses, key-card in hand, and sighs before pushing the card in the slot and turning the handle.  We enter a long hallway and I turn on the lights as she walks ahead into the oddly shaped sitting room set off to the right of the hall.  She drops her bag on the leather couch and disappears from sight for a second as I make my way to join her.</p><p> </p><p>"Your dad sure likes champagne," she states, picking up a large bottle from a silver bucket on the far end of the coffee table.</p><p> </p><p>"He still acts like they have money, like the old days." I place my bag near hers and join her near the bucket, internally relieved she is talking to me at all. "But my mom still manages to be frugal and fabulous, so she makes it work.  It’s also why she's in charge of the budgets on their films."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, really…." She hands the bottle to me with a nod and I oblige her, pulling the foil from the cork and starting to unscrew the cage.  "Tell me more about your family."</p><p> </p><p>The scars on my back start to tingle and I remember they're there once more.  Amazing what the brain does when conditioned to lie for so many years. When someone brings up my family, I need to go through the reminders. Don't tell her about the anger.  Don't tell her about the screams.  Don't tell her about the belt cutting your skin. </p><p> </p><p>"What do you want to know?"  Deflect. Pull the cork out of the champagne and quickly pour her a glass.  I hope she gets drunk quickly and forgets to ask more personal questions.</p><p> </p><p>Veronica raises her glass in a small gesture of a toast before taking a sip, blinking quickly as the bubbles rise and I chuckle, taking a sip from mine.</p><p> </p><p>"They chose each other."</p><p> </p><p>"Correct."</p><p> </p><p>Stepping over to the couch, she flops onto the cushions near the end.  I take her glance at the free spot near her as an invitation and do the same.</p><p> </p><p>"I mean, I know they were both together and were spies during the war…"</p><p> </p><p>"Point of correction…" I hold up my finger and stop her assumptions.  "Let me clear up one thing that history and the press loves to cover up, my <em> mother </em> was a spy first.  My father was with her and kept her secret, but it wasn't until he realized the government was going to finally topple that he started to help my mother when the risks were minimal if he was caught. They got married a few months after the war was declared over."</p><p> </p><p>Okay.  Maybe a little too much truth, but there was no way I was going to let her think Aaron was a prince among men.</p><p> </p><p>"Interesting," she says, finishing her champagne in one long sip.  Tilting her empty glass towards me, her eyes narrow as she speaks.  "Do you think it's better?  That they got married or should they have waited to be partnered?"</p><p> </p><p>"Are you asking me whether it would be better to go back to the old way of dating and choosing a partner rather than be matched?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes.  I am."</p><p> </p><p>I finish my champagne and put the glass down, picking up the bottle to refill it and Veronica thrusts her glass toward me with a coy grin.  She already had one glass of wine at the restaurant, and knowing she doesn’t drink regularly means she's probably already starting to feel this.  So I pour for myself and her.</p><p> </p><p>"I don't know."  Pausing, I focus on her expression, trying to get a read on what she is really asking, in the hopes I don't screw up again with my answer.  "I mean, Lilly seems happy, for the most part, as do her parents and your parents, so maybe there <em> is </em> something to it.  But I think, in the end, it's about people wanting to work hard at making it work, no matter how they came together. That means realizing that your actions now affect other people, and vice versa.  If one person is in it only for themselves, either chosen through free will or partnered by <em> Orwell </em>, then the whole thing is doomed from the start."</p><p> </p><p>Her back straightens at the mention of Lilly and I wonder if I've said too much.</p><p> </p><p>"You may be right," she whispers, pausing to take the full glass from my hand.  "You don't think there was something to the idea that one could <em> try out </em> a person, as it were, before committing?"</p><p> </p><p>Shrugging, l lean back into the couch and stretch my free arm across the back, my hand casually resting near her and she glares at it like it's some sort of snake coming to get her.  So I drop it down the soft leather back, finding a tufted button to pick at with my nail.</p><p> </p><p>"My mother <em> tried out </em> my dad before they were married...that's why they got married."  I take a slow sip and contemplate my words.  "My mother was secretly pregnant when they got married and had a late-term miscarriage.  That's why they adopted Trina—they were worried that her exposure to the radiation zones during the war had compromised her reproductive system."</p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry.  I never knew."  She finally makes eye contact with me, only for a split second before avoiding my glance yet again.  <em> What is she worried I'll see in her eyes if she stares too long? </em></p><p> </p><p>"Not many do, but I figured we're in the <em> getting to know </em>each other part of the day, so what the hell, why not share?"</p><p> </p><p>Veronica's breath hitches as her cheeks go red and I see that I've embarrassed her with the presumed reference to sex.</p><p> </p><p>"What about your parents?" I quickly add, trying to redirect attention. "They seem happy being matched."</p><p> </p><p>"They are, more or less. I mean, my mother always says that things are so much better now and tells horror stories of what it was like for people before the war, so I guess that's her way of saying she's happy."</p><p> </p><p>She pulls one foot up onto the coffee table and slips off her sandal, then the other, wiggling her perfectly French manicured toes.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I desperately want to drop to my knees and kiss those toes. Then her ankle bone.  Then her calf.  Then just dive right under her skirt and… </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>"Fuck." <em> And nothing.  There is nothing for you under that skirt. </em></p><p> </p><p>"What?"</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Shit. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Fuck...yeah...um...it seemed pretty bad before the war.  I mean dating and all."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Good save, Echolls.  Now stop thinking about sex. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She frowns at me over her glass and this time, <em> I </em> avoid <em> her </em> eyes, placing my drink on the table and doffing my jacket, tossing it over our bags.</p><p> </p><p>"So, if you and Lilly could have…"</p><p> </p><p>My hand flips up in protest, accidentally swiping her arm as I move, and she squeaks in shock.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry, but no.  Just stop right there, Veronica.  I knew that Lilly was not the <em> one </em>for me.  She said it a hundred times.  I was just an experiment to her—nothing more, nothing less."</p><p> </p><p>Biting her lip, I see the glassy twinkle in her eye and she nods, but keeps mum.</p><p> </p><p>"Look, I'm not out to argue with you tonight, Veronica.  I just really, really need you to understand that Lilly is in the past.  I am, and will always be, committed to you, in whatever way you want me to be."  I finish my drink in a long sip and place the glass on the table.  "But for tonight, I would really like it if this is the last we talk about Lilly.  Please."</p><p> </p><p>"Okay," she murmurs and takes a quick sip.</p><p> </p><p>"Good.  Because I don't want to talk about Lilly...I want to talk about <em> you. </em>"</p><p> </p><p>"You already know me."  Pulling her feet up underneath the skirt of her dress, she shifts, trying to look more relaxed.</p><p> </p><p>"Do I really?"</p><p> </p><p>"We've been friends forever, Logan."</p><p> </p><p>"True. But that's mainly because of other people we've hung out with.  We've had some classes together, and were in Debate Club together, but we've never been partnered for projects or assignments. And we've never hung out alone, just you and me, so there's still a lot of stuff I don't know about you.  Like, I don't even know what your favourite food is?"</p><p> </p><p>"Manicotti from Mama Leone's."</p><p> </p><p>A smile spreads across Veronica's face and it pleases me that I put it there.</p><p> </p><p>"Favorite ice cream?"</p><p> </p><p>"Strawberry Swirl from Amy's Ice Cream Parlor."</p><p> </p><p>"Take your coffee…?"</p><p> </p><p>"Two creams, two sugar."</p><p> </p><p>"See?  Getting to know each other."  I reach for the bottle of champagne and lift it to my lips, taking a drink.  When I'm done, I hand the bottle to her.  "Ask a question, take a sip, pass it back.  And when we're done with this one, we'll order another, on my father's tab."</p><p> </p><p>Her smile wobbles into a crooked grin of mischief, and she tosses back her remaining drink in the glass, putting it down before taking the bottle from my hand.</p><p> </p><p>"Favorite food?"</p><p> </p><p>"Enchiladas.  Take a drink."</p><p> </p><p>She drinks and passes the bottle back to me.</p><p> </p><p>"Favorite pastime."</p><p> </p><p>"Taking photographs."</p><p> </p><p>"Hmmm...interesting." I take a drink and pass it to her.  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with a camera.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s because I like to go out alone and do it.  It helps me think and…wait!  You're a couple questions up on me.  I get to ask a few more."</p><p> </p><p>"Ever the lawyer….go ahead, Ms. Mars."</p><p> </p><p>"Favorite colour?"</p><p> </p><p>"Orange.  Next."</p><p> </p><p>"Favorite spot to surf."</p><p> </p><p>"Near Santa Barbara.  One more."</p><p> </p><p>"Um...favorite subject in school."</p><p> </p><p>"Can I say Debate Club?  Can that count even if it’s extracurricular?"</p><p> </p><p>She's mid-sip and she nods her approval, the bottle raised in the air above her face, her lips wrapped tightly around the rim, taking her time before returning it to an upright position.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> God, those lips wrapped around my… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>"My turn!"  My voice cracks as I grab the bottle and drink as she laughs.</p><p> </p><p>"You're supposed to ask first!"</p><p> </p><p>"Sorry.  I needed a drink.  Are you enjoying this game?"</p><p> </p><p>Pressing her palm to her chest, Veronica giggles, slumping back against the arm of the couch.  "Yes!  Immensely.  Are we going to do this all night?"</p><p> </p><p>"I don't know, is this what you want to do all night?"</p><p> </p><p>"I…" Avoiding eyes again, but this time she rises, almost knocking the glasses off the table as she hurries around to the other side of the couch arm, putting distance between us.  "Yes.  I guess.  If that's okay."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I would rather stretch you across this pristine white couch and show you how I almost made Lilly pass out one night, but…. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>"...sure...this is great, Veronica."  I force my son-of-a-movie-star smile across my face. "Just perfect."</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <b>Veronica</b>
</p><hr/><p>"...just perfect."</p><p> </p><p>"Okay, then.  Right."  Stepping left, I realize I'll have to pass him, so I hop right instead, but my ankles kind of get tied up, and I almost fall, but I catch myself on the arm of the couch and push myself off.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Damn, I'm drunk already. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He's standing, and I wave him off and whoops, there goes my footing again.  Fuck, I'm not even in heels, just bare feet.  I grab my backpack, knocking his stuff to the ground as I do.</p><p> </p><p>"Sorry.  I really wanna change.  Order more drinks for us?"  Somehow I twirl and holy fuck, I just almost hit the doorway to the bedroom but...saved!  Pull up straight and focus on getting through the bedroom to the bathroom, as quickly as possible before I embarrass myself more.</p><p> </p><p>The cool tiles feel lovely on my sore feet and I lock the door behind me in the sprawling bathroom.  I need a second to recover.  Just for now.  Booze and disappointment don't mix.</p><p> </p><p>Gliding over to the mirror, I admire my dress.  The blue is the exact same colour as the ocean in the morning and it could be the prettiest thing I now own. Damn, it would have been nice to have Logan peel it off me.  But that's not how my night will go. I knew that after the ceremony.  And now he brings up Lilly and can't even be near me and all he wants to fucking do is fucking talk when it would have been nice to at least offer to fucking fuck.</p><p> </p><p>"Fuck."</p><p> </p><p>But I don't want to fuck.  It sounds like Lilly wanted to fuck.  I want to copulate, have intercourse, bang, screw.  Who am I kidding...I want to make love.  But there's no love for me from Logan.  Not that I detect.  He could have at least thrown in a question like, "what gets you hot?" Throw me a bone.  But nope.</p><p> </p><p>I start fiddling with the back of my dress, undoing the clasps and releasing the zipper before shimmying out of it, a blue pool on the ground.  Then the underwear -- white cotton pulled off and dropped on top.  Digging around in my bag, I find my lacy black underwear, a pair of sleep shorts and a t-shirt.  My belly tickles, imagining him coming through the door right now and seeing me drunk and naked in front of the mirror and god, what the hell would I do?  Page thirty-eight of my sexual health book.  That's what I would do.  All about safe sex in the shower.  No one breaks a condom.  No one breaks their neck.  I know that page by heart.</p><p> </p><p>Stare at the reflection of the pristine white bathroom door in the mirror, trying to will it with my mind to open.  Or what if I just go out like this.  Stark naked.  What would he do?  Kiss my forehead and send me to bed, alone?</p><p> </p><p>My eyes roll and I sigh so loudly it reverberates against the tiles.  That's probably precisely what he'd do.</p><p> </p><p>Grab the sink.  Put on my underwear without falling over.  Good.  Done.  Toss on the t-shirt and shimmy on the shorts.  Fuck taking off the makeup.  Fuck picking up the dress.  I'll deal with it tomorrow. Bag too.</p><p> </p><p>Pad back through the bathroom, pull open the door and gasp.  Logan's sitting cross-legged on the bed, the bottle of champagne in his hands.</p><p> </p><p>"You changed."  I take in his white t-shirt and grey sweats and he grins.</p><p> </p><p>"Figured if you were getting more comfortable…"  He takes a swig from the bottle and offers it towards me.  "Another one is chilling in the outer suite.  I also ordered some meats and cheeses, so we don't get too drunk on an empty stomach."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, cheese!"  I climb onto the big, tall bed and sit across from him, taking the bottle and a long sip. "I like cheese."</p><p> </p><p>"I've ordered a pizza with you and our friends enough times to know. Double cheese always."</p><p> </p><p>"Does that count as my question?"</p><p> </p><p>He shrugs and I pass back the bottle. "If you want it to.  Do I get one now?"</p><p> </p><p>"Go ahead.  But you need the bottle back then."  Take a sip and pass.  That's the game, and he sticks to the rules.</p><p> </p><p>"Fine.  What did you think of me when you first met me?"</p><p> </p><p>His tongue darts across his lips and he looks down, a crooked grin spreading wide. "That you were hot."</p><p> </p><p>"What?  I was 12!  And in my soccer uniform when we met."</p><p> </p><p>He shrugs as I take a sip to hide my shock and glee.  He thought I was hot.</p><p> </p><p>"In my defence, you were working those shorts and knee socks."</p><p> </p><p>I gasp, and he laughs.  "You perv!”</p><p> </p><p>"Your perv now." Leaning over, he takes the bottle from me and downs a long chug.  As I watch his Adam's apple bob up and down as he drinks, heat rises in me again.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Maybe I can seduce him?  He said I was hot, right? </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>"So, Verrronica…" His index finger wiggles in the air before pointing in front of my nose.  "What did you think of me?"</p><p> </p><p>"I thought you were a dork." </p><p> </p><p><em> Nope.  No seduction </em>.</p><p> </p><p>But he laughs this deep throaty laugh that tickles my heart and runs his fingers through his hair.</p><p> </p><p>"I kinda was then.  I think I weighed 80 lbs soaking wet and those braces and the floppy haircut that got in my eyes and….yeah...thanks for the reminder."</p><p> </p><p>Leaning forward, I take the bottle and fall back into my spot and drain the final drops.  The bed feels like a cloud, and I am weightless.  Damn, those bubbles are excellent.</p><p> </p><p>"Veronica?"</p><p> </p><p>"Hmmm?"</p><p> </p><p>"Do we need the other bottle?"</p><p> </p><p>"Ye-th. Puhleez.  And the cheese.  Pul-eeze.  Ch-eeeze…."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Nope.  Can't feel my lips. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I don't know if he's laughing at me or with me but when he leaves he staggers a bit through the door and I giggle but when he returns with the room service cart with a platter of cheeses, meats, and crackers and a fresh open bottle of champagne I don't care.</p><p> </p><p>"Wait?  How long was I in the bathroom?"</p><p> </p><p>"Ummm...a while.  Didn't you know?"</p><p> </p><p>"Time has lost all meaning." I wave my hand, but instead of exotic and dramatic, it's kind of limp fishy.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dear God, he's putting the platter on the bed and pushing it towards me and….ugh…. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, I love you, cheese."</p><p> </p><p>"It's a match made in heaven."</p><p> </p><p>He's climbing back into bed while trying to carry the fresh bottle of champagne and takes his place on the other side of the platter, and he's looking so goofy adorable with his hair all dishevelled and offering me food, and I can't stand it.</p><p> </p><p>"Maybe we are."</p><p> </p><p>"We?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah.  Maybe we are.  Cheese and you and me."</p><p> </p><p>Something lights up in his eyes as he looks at me. "I told you I didn't want a polyamorous relationship."</p><p> </p><p>Mischief.  That's what that look in his eye is.  Pure mischief.</p><p> </p><p>"Fine.  Then cheese and me.  You get to watch."</p><p> </p><p>"So that's your kink."  The grin he flashes is so delicious my body instantly heats up.</p><p> </p><p>“You found me out.”  I grab a cracker and toss a piece of cheese on top.  “Hope you don’t mind crumbs in bed.  I can get dirty sometimes.”</p><p> </p><p>The rumbling chuckle that comes from him is like nothing I’ve ever heard, deep and sexy, and I avoid his eyes, keeping my focus directly on the food, making another little hors d'oeuvres and I set it down on his side of the platter.</p><p> </p><p>“So, you found out my kink.  Now you have to tell me yours.”  I pop the cracker and cheese in my mouth, and my eyes roll back as the salty, tangy goodness of the blue cheese hits my palate. </p><p> </p><p>He licks his lips and hands me the bottle, leaning so close I can smell his cologne, cedar and musk and citrus and sweat and <em> him </em>.</p><p> </p><p>"My kink is watching you eat cheese in bed. So hot."</p><p> </p><p>The champagne nearly comes up my nose when I laugh and oh my God, I could be the first person who choked to death on their union night.</p><p> </p><p>For a second, he seems concerned by my coughing, but I catch my breath and take another sip to clear my throat.</p><p> </p><p>"Then that's why <em> Orwell </em> put us together."</p><p> </p><p>"Must be."  He takes the bottle back, another quick drink. "Next one...were you disappointed it was me?"</p><p> </p><p>"No!  I was shocked, but I wouldn't say disappointed."</p><p> </p><p>"Good."</p><p> </p><p><em> Ugh.  That smile again.  He could have me right now based on that smile alone.  </em>I want to just follow the deep lines in his cheeks that his smile creates with my finger.  Feel the stubble against my skin.  Take in every curve.</p><p> </p><p>"Were you disappointed by me?"</p><p> </p><p>He chuckles, scratching the stubble on his cheek.  "No.  Not at all, Veronica.  Not at all."</p><p> </p><p>"Good."</p><p> </p><p>As I pass the bottle back, his fingers graze mine in the handoff sending prickles of electricity down my arm and through my body. </p><p> </p><p>"Do you think this will work?  I mean, you and me?  Do you think, in time, this will work?"</p><p> </p><p><em> So drunk </em>.  I’m so drunk, I don't even know where that question came from before I said it.</p><p> </p><p>"I sure hope so, Veronica.  I mean, I promise to try my damndest to make things work. I may not be perfect, but you need to know, I would never, ever do anything to purposely hurt you. That's my promise to you, right here, right now." Another swig from the bottle, but his eyes stay on me.</p><p> </p><p>"I believe you. And I'll try my hardest too.  I promise."</p><p> </p><p>"You know, in the old days, they made all these promises when they got married that I don't think a lot of people ever really meant." The bottle comes back to me and he continues.  "Let's actually mean this one, okay?"</p><p> </p><p>I take a long sip and hope the alcohol drowns the butterflies flapping around in my stomach before I can answer. Dad once said a relationship was based on trust, mutual respect, and commitment—without those things as the foundation, anything built on top of it would collapse.  Maybe tonight, we could start the building of that foundation together.</p><p> </p><p>"Okay, Logan.  Okay."</p><p> </p><p>"Good." He stacks a piece of cheese on a cracker and layers on a triangle of cheese and hands it to me. "Now keep eating.  It'll help stave off the massive hangover we're about to have tomorrow after all this drinking."</p><p> </p><p>Taking it from him, I quickly pop it in my mouth and wash it down with more alcohol.</p><p> </p><p>Not exactly how I expected things to go tonight, but still not a bad way to spend the first night alone with my partner.  Of course, tomorrow is another day.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <strong>Logan</strong>
</p><hr/><p>My first conscious thought is that it feels like my brain is expanding and contracting in my skull in rhythm to my heartbeat.  My second conscious thought is that Veronica is still in my arms and that I shouldn’t move because damn, the warmth of her against me is amazing. </p><p>Her head is on my right bicep, using it as a pillow and I can’t really feel my fingers on that hand anymore, but I know no one has cut them off, so it’s all good.  I’ll suffer.  My other arm is slung over her waist and I really want to move it, so my palm is pressed to her stomach like it was last night when we fell asleep.  Her entire back is stretched along my torso and goddamn, her ass is against my cock, and I’m thankful that the alcohol has impaired my usual morning wood because shit, if she moves at all, we could be at least halfway to consummating this union. </p><p>As we were drunkenly crawling under the covers last night, her sleep shorts slipped a bit, and I realized she was wearing black lace panties underneath those shorts. That had me completely rethinking this offer not to have sex until she was ready and instead dropping to my knees to beg her to take me in whatever fashion she chose.  But I was good and refrained.  We were both flopping around the king-sized bed, trying to figure out how to sleep together comfortably, when she complained about how the room and the bed were spinning.  So, I offered for her to come and sleep with me, to give her an anchor in her drunken movement. She hesitated for a second before rolling into my open arms, and just like that, like a puzzle piece finding its place, we just fit.  We figured out immediately that I’m tall enough that my head could rest on the pillow above hers and she could lay on my arm just below and her body could stretch along mine, and when I bent my knees, hers followed like she was sitting on my lap and it all just worked.</p><p>Every time I inhale, there’s the smell of vanilla, and I think jasmine flowers with a bit of sweetness, and I wonder if it’s her perfume or her shampoo or a combination of both.  Either way, it reminds me of marshmallows and now I’m bummed I didn’t order us dessert last night too.</p><p>Food.  Bacon.  Runny eggs.  A mountain of toast. My stomach rumbles and I hope she doesn't hear because fuck, I need a giant hangover breakfast. Coffee.  Lots and lots of coffee. </p><p>A sigh.  Veronica sighs and wriggles against me and Jesus Christ, now I'm hard. Close my eyes and think about that look her dad kept throwing me at dinner like he knew I was going to defile his daughter last night in all manner of unseemly ways.  But she never said she wanted to be defiled in ways either seemly or not, so we just kept drinking until there was no way either of us could have fucked, even if one of us expressed any interest.</p><p>And all things are under control again. Gotta remember the Keith Mars trick for next time.  Because there will be a next time. We're going to live together and I'm letting her set the pace, which means I'll be hiding a lot of boners, especially if these sleep-shorts and a tiny t-shirt is her standard sleep attire.  Fuck lingerie.  The crease of those cute little ass cheeks of hers showing just under the hem of those shorts sets me on fire. Last night, I was lying in bed already and watching her brush her teeth through the open door of the bathroom and she bent over to pick up her dress and underwear off the floor and I swear I broke into a full-body sweat at the sight of her ass cocked in the air when she bent at the waist.  I was glad she finally picked up her clothes since every time I used the bathroom, I had to stare at her….stuff...just laying there, taunting me that I wasn't the one who took them off her.</p><p>It was kinda great just talking and laughing with her last night, though.  She was mostly Lilly's friend, so even though we've hung out, it was never really alone with each other and it was awesome to just leave that all behind and just be ourselves together.  There's always the jokes about <em>getting to know</em> each other the night of the Union Ceremony, but I can honestly say that I think I do know Veronica better now.  I hope she feels more comfortable with me too.  It isn't about sex—that can wait as long as she needs.  I just want us to not kill each other when we are trapped in a dorm together at college. </p><p>They've been preparing us for years for this moment.  The government made sure we know about sex and pleasure and contraception and respect in the hope that when they partnered us off that we would all be ready to go.  Make careers. Make lives. Make babies.  Rebuild an entire country from the rubble of what they left us, one <em>Orwell-created </em>family at a time.  Am I complaining?  No.  Anyone <em>Orwell</em> could have matched me with is better than staying at home and living my life with Aaron anymore.</p><p>I’m still trying to figure out what Veronica truly thinks about our system.  She trusts everyone so implicitly that I'm surprised that there was any question that she would say yes to our union.  That's why I think she still doesn't believe it will work.  Anyone else and I feel like she'd have been gleefully happy because the government told her to be.  With me, however, she balked. </p><p>Right now, the most I let myself hope for is that we can be civil to each other—which I don't think will be hard—for the next year. We leave tonight for college, and then that’s it, we're on our own to figure out how to make this work.  I feel like if we can accomplish just not driving each other batshit crazy over the next little while, it will all work out.  And cuddling. I'd like to add convincing Veronica that waking up in my arms is a good thing onto my shortlist of expectations.  I'll just have to make sure and get up before she does so I can take care of my inevitable morning wood in the shower.</p><p>I hear rumbling, but this time, it's not my stomach making the noise, and I can't help but chuckle and move my hand to press against Veronica's soft belly.  It rises and rolls and gurgles again as she moans, shifting in my arms.</p><p>"Ugh.  Lo—?"</p><p>Her palm comes to rest on the back of my hand, her fingers sliding down over mine until they naturally entwine.</p><p>"Nauseous?"</p><p>"A little."</p><p>She shifts against me again and I send orders down to my crotch to keep still, but damn it, she's pressing back into me and wriggling.  I suck in air through my teeth, trying to hold on.</p><p>"I'll get up and order us breakfast.  That'll help."</p><p>I try to slip my hand away, but she grabs it, holding it to her.</p><p>"No! Don't move.  The bed is still spinning."</p><p>"Really?"</p><p>"Yes. Am I still drunk?"</p><p>I peek over her shoulder just as she rolls her head back a bit to look up at me.  Her eyes are half-open, but I can see the blood-shot redness even like that.</p><p>"You may be.  We did have two bottles of champagne and you were keeping up with me and given your size…"</p><p>"Ugh…"</p><p>She lets go of my hand and rolls over, forming a tight ball against me and grabbing my shirt like she's a baby koala hanging on to its parent.</p><p>"I promise not to barf on your pecs, just don't go until I get my bearings, okay?"</p><p>Smoothing her hair away from her cheek, I smile down at her, but she doesn't notice—her eyes are closed again. "I won't go anywhere. Not until you're ready, I promise."</p><p>"Okay.  Good."  Her nose whistles slightly as she breathes slowly, obviously trying not to barf, and I chuckle, shaking both of us slightly. "And stop laughing at me."</p><p>"I'm not laughing at you, Veronica. I'm just enjoying this time with my new partner, that's all."</p><p>"Mmmm.  You're enjoying my pain, huh?"</p><p>"No.  Not that at all. I'm just enjoying being here with you.  Like this.  I mean, come on, you have to admit, this is cozy, right?"</p><p>She says nothing, but I hear her snuffle a bit and...<em>is she sniffing me?</em></p><p>"I'll give you that. This is kind of nice."</p><p>Veronica's knees shift and catch my balls, sending a blinding white flash of pain through me.</p><p>"Jesus!  Fuck."</p><p>"Oh, God, I'm sorry!  Is your stomach okay?"</p><p>"That wasn't my stomach you kneed," I hiss, trying to keep it together.  "Lower."</p><p>"Oh? Oh!  Oh no, Logan, I'm sorry." She rolls away from me under the covers, her eyes wide in shock.</p><p>"Don't worry.  It happens.  Cuddling can be a dangerous thing."</p><p>At this, she frowns for a second then pulls herself up to sit near the pillows on the far end of the bed.</p><p>"Never thought I could screw up cuddling."</p><p>My laugh comes out as a sharp bark and I shake my head at her surprise. "Veronica.  You're not bad at cuddling.  It's fine.  We're just getting used to each other, that's all."</p><p>"I guess." She turns a particular shade of white with a green tinge and slides back down under the covers, her head resting on the pillow.</p><p>"Tell you what...I'll jump in a quick shower, then order us breakfast.  You just lay there and regroup, and when the food gets here, you can eat in bed like a queen."</p><p>Her nose twitches, then wrinkles as she smiles, and that along with her dishevelled hair and the pink flush of embarrassment on her cheeks makes her look like the damn cutest queen I've ever seen.</p><p>"A queen, huh.  You may need to be careful, I'm liable to ask you to do this for me every morning."</p><p>I sit up and wink at her.  "I would do it, too."</p><p>"You would?"</p><p>"Yeah. Yeah, I would. If you haven't noticed yet, Veronica, I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make this work.  And if bringing you coffee and bacon in bed every morning is part of it, then I'll adapt."</p><p>"No, I….that's not what I want, Logan.  I want a partner, not a subservient boy who caters to my every whim.  And I don't think you want to be that either."</p><p>"Maybe." I shrug.  "Could be fun if you gave me an outfit.  Maybe something leather and…" The squeak in her gasp makes me realize that maybe I took things too far, and I dial it back. "I'm kidding, Veronica.  I would like it if we make this partnership work as an equal affair as well."</p><p>"But, you'll still order me bacon today, right?"</p><p>"Yes, my darling." Pulling the covers off, I slip out of the warmth of the bed and stand, turning to give a little bow. "But for now, a shower."</p><p>I swivel towards the bathroom before she can respond and make a hasty exit as I allow my brain to indulge in the thought of Veronica in those black lace panties and nothing else, ordering me around the bedroom.</p><p>Fuck.  At least I'm getting a jump on my morning routine.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <strong>Veronica</strong>
</p><hr/><p>How can I feel so terrible and so great? My mouth is like sandpaper, and my eyes throb every time I open them, and I think there's a tiny construction crew rebuilding my brain in my skull, but waking up in Logan's arms was the best feeling in the world.  Damn, he smells good; like the salt from the ocean is permanently embedded in his skin, combined with cedar and sandalwood and a subtle muskiness of, well, <em>man</em> underneath it all<em>.</em></p><p>Last night, when he suggested getting closer, all I wanted was the room to stop spinning, so I gratefully rolled into his arms.  But then when I was there, my whole body began to tingle in a way I had never experienced being near him before. Yearning.  A deep, deep want for Logan-fucking-Echolls to wholly and desperately fall in love with me and sweep me off my proverbial feet like in some ludicrous storyline from a romantic movie from before the war.  Not just the lust that I was feeling all night between my thighs.  I wanted everything. Every emotion. I wanted him to love me, hate me, laugh with me, grow old with me.  Suddenly and inexplicably, I wanted it all.</p><p>Tucked against him, I could feel his heartbeat against my back and when I closed my eyes, I focused on my breathing and it started to sync with his and it was just so peaceful.  Whenever I imagined this night, I seemed to omit the actual sleeping part.  None of what I believed would happen actually happened, though. </p><p>I had hoped at some point during the evening one of us would have got up the nerve—thanks to the champagne—to suggest we should have sex.  I hoped that Logan would kiss me softly while he stripped off my clothes.  That he would lay me on the bed, run his fingers across my skin, watching my face to see how I reacted to his touch. How he'd take my willingness to explore further and slide his fingers over my clit and bring me to orgasm like I've done to myself a million times before while he watched me and smiled at what he accomplished.</p><p>Shit.  Now I'm hungover and horny.</p><p>I focus on the bathroom door, hearing the shower run. Don't want to risk it.  What if Logan comes out and finds me getting myself off?  Great way to start a partnership—we don't have sex, but I'm masturbating the next day.  I mean, I'm not going to stop doing it, but we're about to share a dorm room.  I'll just have to figure out a way to go about it with my vibrator without detection.  That was the first thing I packed, not even knowing who I was partnered with because what if I found out my partner was actually bad at sex.  But who am I kidding...Logan was fooling around with Lilly.  There is no way he's terrible at sex.  She would have kicked him to the curb if he was.</p><p>Oh God...what if <em>I'm</em> bad at sex?  I mean, I just screwed up cuddling by kneeing him in the balls.  Let's face it, Lilly is sexy as hell and probably just naturally knew what to do. She doesn't even own a vibrator. Although now that I know about Logan, I understand why.</p><p>She once wore this black bathing suit to the beach that plunged all the way to her navel, and that night even <em>I</em> had a sex dream about her so vivid, I thought I should change my answers for <em>Orwell</em>.  It may have been a one-time thing, but I couldn't look Lil in the eye for a week after.</p><p>Here's the thing though...I've never been bad at anything.  Anything.  It's always just all come naturally to me.  Algebra?  No problem.  Creative writing?  Yes.  Singing? I'm pitch-perfect.  But sex?  How the hell am I supposed to know???  In our sexual health class, they make it all seem so natural and normal but I'm sorry, some of the things and positions discussed must have been discovered by some deeply depraved people.</p><p>Oh fuck, I <em>am</em> a prude.  Like my mother before me.</p><p>I freaked out about him and Lilly.  I agreed to this <em>chaste</em> arrangement because I was overwhelmed. If it was anyone else but Logan, I probably would have had sex with them. Still, because I'm this prude who's never done anything so much as kiss a boy, I've locked myself into this arrangement in a way that is unsatisfying.  All these years of giggling and torturing my Mom with these little shots about being sexually evolved and deep, deep down, I'm still just a prude trying to act like I'm this fantastically sexually liberated woman.  Like Lilly.  But in reality, I'm so not like Lilly at all.  Not in the least.</p><p>"Ugh!" </p><p>I pull the covers over my head and ball like an armadillo. <em>I'm never coming out. Not even for bacon.</em></p><p>The shower stops, and I hold my breath, waiting for the sound of the bathroom door to open. “One Mississippi, two Mississippi…” I continue the rest in my head, filling the time and entertaining my brain.  At around forty-five Mississippi’s, Logan exits, and I lay perfectly still as I hear him walk closer to the bed.</p><p>The whole mattress shifts, and I bounce a bit as he jumps onto his side of the bed. Peeking my head out from the covers, he grins at me, still wet but back in his sweats and t-shirt, so they are sticking to him in all sorts of ways, showing off the skin underneath.  His hair is standing on end, probably from his towel-off, and his face is left unshaven, showing a burgeoning shading on his cheeks and chin.</p><p>“How much bacon do you require in the mornings?  Ten pieces?  Twenty?” Picking up the phone, he presses the button to connect with room service as I ponder his words.</p><p>“Five with waffles, strawberries and whipping cream, please.”</p><p>He winks as the call connects.  “Good morning!  I’d like to order room service for myself and my lovely partner…we will need ten pieces of bacon, one order of waffles with strawberries and whipping cream, eggs benedict, hash browns, and toast.  And the biggest carafe of coffee you have, please.”  I can hear the server repeat the order back through the phone.  “Great.  Thank you.”</p><p>He leans over and hangs up the phone before leaning back against the headboard, his hands tucked behind his head, elbows out to either side and grins at me, tucked into my cocoon.</p><p>“Shower’s free if you want.”</p><p>“Maybe later,” I mumble.</p><p>Silence.  Painful, awkward, silence.</p><p>“So….are you packed?”</p><p>
  <em>Thank God.  A question.</em>
</p><p>“Yeah.  But my room is still a disaster, so I have to put things back together before we leave tonight.  How about you?”</p><p>“Yep.  Been ready for days now.  All packed and ready to go.”</p><p>“Good.  That’s good.” My brain wavers.  I don’t know why this feels so weird.  Maybe because I’ve never wakened up next to someone before? “By the way, I called the registrar’s office before the ceremony and told them I would be arriving with my partner on Saturday, so my dorm accommodations had to change.  I gave them your name so they would change your arrangements too.”</p><p>“Oh shit!  Right.  Thanks for doing that.  I completely forgot.”</p><p>
  <em>Dear God, don’t let me be taking care of everything for the rest of our lives.</em>
</p><p>“No problem.”</p><p>Silence.  When is that food coming?  It feels like an hour since we ordered.   Okay…a few seconds, but still…</p><p>“So, what do you think the dorms look like?  Think they’re about the same as the ones Lilly and Sabrina are in? I hear it's pretty nice—has a kitchenette and a little living room—more like a small apartment than a dorm."</p><p>I shrug.  “Probably.  I know a lot of them are retrofitted from the dorms that existed before the war, but I think ours is a newer building.”  I’m starting to get hot under the covers, so I slide up, propping myself up on the pillow with my arm on my side so I can still see Logan.  “The old co-ed dorms are still for the unmatched people.  I did see in the information package they sent that the family houses are also really near our building.”</p><p>“Ah.  Is that incentive to procreate?  Shove us in a tiny room together and make us look out at the people who have kids in their homes with yards to try and entice us to repopulate the country in exchange for better housing?”</p><p>A snort-laugh escapes me and I shake my head.  “Probably.  But that won’t be happening with us.  Just so you know, about six months ago, I chose to get an IUD, so if…when…” My cheeks heat up and I can’t look Logan in the eye. “We don’t have to worry.”</p><p>“Fair enough—” he murmurs.</p><p>More silence.  Shit, is this what our entire partnership will be like?  We need to be drunk to talk like normal humans?</p><p>“So, the airport.  Tonight.”  He scratches his stubbled cheek in thought before continuing.  “I thought that maybe we could arrive together if you want?”</p><p>“Yeah.  Sure.  That would be great.”  Yes!  I was worried about my mother making a fuss at the airport.  This will solve everything.  “Maybe you can take a cab to my place and pick me up and we can go together?”</p><p>“Yes!  I can do that.”  Logan’s enthusiasm is jump-started and I breathe a little sigh of relief. Suddenly though, his face contorts into a cringe. “Duncan is on the same flight.”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“And…he’s not too happy that you and I were partnered.”  Folding his arms across his chest, Logan lets out a low whistle.  “He is not happy at all.”</p><p>“Why?  What happened?”  I sit all the way up and pull myself closer to him.  “Did you see him?”</p><p>“I…I’m the one who broke it to him. And let me just say, I think he was really hoping it would be him, not me, that you were partnered with.”</p><p>My lips part, but no words come out.  What am I supposed to say?  That I thought it would be Duncan too?  I choose instead to press my lips together and not say a word.</p><p>“He was at my house when we got back from your place and I broke it to him and he kind of threw a tantrum.”</p><p>“A <em>tantrum?</em>”</p><p>“Yep.  A tantrum.”  Logan shrugs.  “You know he’s had a crush on you for years, right?”</p><p>“A crush?  On me?”  My laugh is so sharp Logan jumps a bit.  “On me?”</p><p>“Yes!  On you.  Why wouldn’t you think he would?”</p><p>I look past Logan towards the mirror over the dresser.  My hair is a wreck, my skin is pale and sallow from dehydration, and I’m in a crappy old t-shirt and shorts.  “I’m not exactly <em>crush</em> material.”</p><p>This time Logan’s laugh makes <em>me </em>jump.  “Veronica.  You are completely 100% crush material. You’re smart, funny, and quite adorable if I do say so myself.”</p><p>“Adorable?” My nose wrinkles.  “That’s hardly crush-worthy.”</p><p>“Adorable is crush-worthy, in my books anyway.”</p><p>I catch a wobbly grin spread across his lips, and for a split second, I wonder if he’s talking from experience about me?</p><p>“Logan, I…”</p><p>There’s a sharp knocking on the door to the suite and quick as a flash, Logan is off the bed and jogging out the bedroom door, leaving my words hanging on the tip of my tongue.  As I listen to him greet the bell-hop, I lean back against the pillows, trying to calculate what just happened.</p><p>
  <em>Did Logan Echolls just admit he had a crush on me?</em>
</p><p>“Can’t be true,” I mutter to myself.</p><p>Logan was always ogling the girls with dyed hair and big breasts.  Always ready for quick banter with them in the halls or in class.  On top of being a jackass, he was a notorious flirt, always prepared with his quick wit for those who wished to spar with him.  Of the girls I watched him interact with over the years, none of them came close to looking or sounding like me.</p><p>“Your breakfast, my queen.”</p><p>I snap from my thoughts as Logan rolls the silver cart into the bedroom, and he waves his hand at me.</p><p>“Get under the covers.  I promised you breakfast in bed, and I aim to please.”</p><p>It takes my body a second to catch up to my orders, but when it does, I wiggle comfortably into place, smoothing the duvet over my lap.  I watch as he pours a coffee from the carafe and drops two sugar in the cup before placing it on the side table near me.  He then takes one of the napkins and flips it dramatically in the air, letting it fall across my lap.  On top of it, he places my plate of waffles, handing me the silver-wear with a small nod.  To finish off, he takes the tongs and scoops five pieces of bacon from the tray and places them on my plate next to the waffle. Stepping back, he bows.</p><p>“Is everything to your liking?”</p><p>A tickle of happiness runs through me, and I bite my lip as I look from him to my plate and back to him, grinning at me like a fool and for the first time since I read his name on that piece of paper I think that maybe, just maybe, everything will be fine.</p><p>“Thank you.  It’s perfect, Logan.  Just perfect.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is an intense chapter as we get a glimpse into Logan's home life...<br/>TW: child abuse<br/>TW: spousal abuse</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <b>Veronica</b>
</p><hr/><p>I want to pack the pink unicorn t-shirt so badly, in the hopes that Logan remembers it, but instead I hang it up, relegating it to the back of my closet.  My room is pieced back together in time for me to leave tonight, at which point, it ceases to be <em> mine </em> anymore.  Even though my mother keeps saying she wants to turn it into an office for my father, so he doesn’t have to finish his reports at the dining room table, my Dad insists that they’ll keep it as is, for when I return for Christmas and vacations.  I.  We.  When <em> we </em> return.  I’m now a <em> we. </em>  It’s all so new I need to keep reminding myself of it.</p><p>Focusing on my freshly made bed—the brightly patterned pink and purple duvet with every colour accent pillow my mother could find placed nicely against the white headboard—I wonder if Logan would fit in the single bed with me.  Because where else would he sleep?  It wouldn’t make sense for him to stay with his parents at Christmas and me with mine.</p><p>Looking down at my hands I realize I’ve been fidgeting with my ring again while I think. A new habit, as the tiny gold band still feels foreign on my body.  When I showered this morning at the hotel, I left it on, worried that it would disappear if I took it off.  And when I got home, I set about cleaning my room, trying to avoid my mother’s questions about what did and did not happen last night, so it just stayed on while I worked.  </p><p>I heard my father’s voice calling out that he was home from work a little while ago, which means he’s back from the station just in time for an early dinner with me and mom and to say goodbye.  Logan said he would pick me up in the cab around 6:00 pm so we had time to get to the airport and get through security procedures, which always took forever.  </p><p>There’s still an uneasiness in my belly about seeing Duncan, after Logan told me how he took the news that Logan and I had been partnered.  We all booked our tickets to fly out together so I’ll have several hours of being crammed between them on the flight to Chicago.  It was supposed to be fun, all of us travelling to Ginsberg University together, but now I can just feel the awkwardness building.  Maybe it will give me some time to smooth things over with Duncan and Logan.  They’ve been best friends for years and I would hate for them to lose that friendship over me.  I mean, it’s not like Logan or I are responsible for the match—it was <em> Orwell </em>who chose it, not us.  Besides, if Logan was matched, I’m sure Duncan will be matched soon and then that will make another couple Logan and I can hang out with at school.</p><p>A soft knock on the door and I turn, wincing at the prospect of my mom coming in but I suck it up, knowing it is inevitable.</p><p>“Come in.”</p><p>I’m shocked when my Dad saunters in, a firm smile plastered across his lips.  He takes a quick look around and whistles.</p><p>“Well, your room looks like it’s back to the way it should be.”</p><p>“Yeah.  I didn’t want to leave it in a mess.”  I sit on my bed and cross my legs as my Dad closes the door behind himself, the smile disappearing off his face.</p><p>“Is that the only reason you’re hiding out in here today?”</p><p>“I…well…yes. Why?” His expression has quickly changed to one I know all too well—interrogation mode—the same look he gets when I see him at work and he’s about to rake a suspect over the proverbial coals. </p><p>He moves to sit on the edge of my bed and nods, pursing his lips as he does.  For a moment, there’s silence and I wonder what prompted this visit to my room.</p><p>“I just wanted to talk to you—check in since I wasn’t here when you came home from your <em> big night </em> last night…” </p><p>
  <em> Oh.  Shit.  Please, don’t let him ask about sex. </em>
</p><p> “…and your mother said you ducked in here pretty quickly looking a little, well, pale and dishevelled, and I just wanted to check…well, I wanted to check to make sure that Logan treated you…properly.”</p><p>I can’t help the snort of nervous laughter that passes my lips.  For some reason, the idea that Logan would act <em> improperly </em> never really crossed my mind until now.</p><p>“Dad, everything is fine.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Yes, really.  The reason I came straight in here is we stayed up for most of the night drinking copious amounts of champagne and talking and I really didn’t feel up to Mom questioning me about what did or did not happen last night.”</p><p>“So, you were hungover.” Dad chuckles and runs his hand over his balding scalp. “That’s why you hid.”</p><p>“Yes.  That and I just can’t deal with Mom’s over-enthusiasm for my life-plans right now.  Plus, I really did want to clean my room before I left tonight.”</p><p>“Okay, well that’s good then.” His tired eyes meet mine and I finally notice a sadness in them. “Because I want to make sure that my little girl is in good hands.”</p><p>I cross my arms over my chest and frown. “You make it sound like you’re handing me off like cattle.  I thought this misogyny was what you fought against in the war?”</p><p>“I did.” He shakes his head at me again, wagging his finger in my direction.  “But this isn’t misogyny. This is me, being a parent and sending my only child off into the world with a virtual stranger.  Now, I know that Logan has been around our home now and then over the years and he seems like a nice enough boy.  But what I’m asking from you is whether you think this <em> nice enough boy </em> will treat you as a partner should be treated—with care and respect.”</p><p>Biting my lip, I pause to think about what he’s saying. Last night, Logan was the epitome of decency.  He could have easily just taken whatever sexual advantage of me that he wanted when I was drunk and asleep.  He could have demanded arrangements and agreements.  He could have overpowered me and just forced me to do what he wanted.  But he didn’t.  All the stories we heard about the heinous ways women were treated in partnerships, once upon a time, could have happened to me last night.  But it didn’t.  And somehow, I just knew it wouldn’t have happened.  Not with Logan.</p><p>Scooting across the bed, I get close enough to my Dad to put my hand on his arm and smile.  “He is a nice <em> man, </em> Dad.  And I’m only telling you this to set your mind at ease—we have an agreement that we are going into this partnership as friends, with no expectations beyond that, for now.”</p><p>“Friends?”</p><p>“Friends.”</p><p>My father shrugs, a smile curling back on his lips. “That’s not a bad way to start out a partnership.  In fact, that’s much like your mother and I did, back in the day.”</p><p>“Really?” My nose wrinkles.  Do I really want to hear about my parent’s sex life?  I push Veronica Prude aside for a second in exchange for Curious Veronica. “How so?”</p><p>“Well, your mother probably will kill me for telling you this, but our partnership was not the grand romance she makes it out to be.” He scratches his cheek and lets out a sigh. “In fact, I slept on the couch for the first few months of our union, including the night we signed our papers.”</p><p>“Wow.  I did not know that.  Mom always made it out to seem like you and her were destined to be together.”</p><p>Dad shrugs.  “Maybe we were.  But it took some time for us to get comfortable with each other.  And I never forced her to change or adapt to my needs or wants.  She chose when she was ready to be with me, when we had you, and she made the choice to give up her career as a florist to stay home with you.  I never pushed her to do anything.”</p><p>"Logan's not pushing, Dad.  I can promise you that. And neither am I."</p><p>"That's good. Let things happen naturally." He pats my hand, leaning over to kiss my forehead.  As he pulls back, he pauses.  "Truth be told, I wasn't really worried until your mother started to fret about your disappearing act."</p><p>"You weren't?  Why?"</p><p>"Because the way he kissed your head after the ceremony yesterday told me that he's a boy who actually, truly cares about you.  He wasn't going to put on a show for anyone, he wasn't going to grab his chance to share a first kiss with you in front of us.  It told me that Logan is someone who is genuinely thinking about you both. And it set my mind at ease."</p><p>My stomach tickles at my father's words. I never needed his approval for anything, but it's immensely satisfying just knowing that he likes Logan.</p><p>He turns to leave and I continue to sit on my bed, enjoying the warmth radiating from my heart and rippling through my body.</p><p>"Oh, but if I'm wrong—" he pauses by the door and turns back to me "—this room is still here for you to return.  And I will lock his ass in prison for the rest of his life if he hurts you."</p><p>And there it is.</p><p>"Noted, Dad." I nod, giving him a small salute. "Wouldn't expect any less."</p><p>He opens the door and grins. "Dinner's almost ready.  Come out when you smell fresh lasagna wafting through the house."</p><p>"Can't wait!"  I clap my hands and enthusiastically rub them together. </p><p>When my dad closes the door, my smile drops, as do I, flat on my back, and I'm back to looking up at my ceiling. Dad approves of Logan.  Not a requirement, but it is nice to know he has the Keith Mars seal of approval.  For now, at least. </p><p>"For now."</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <b>Logan</b>
</p><hr/><p>I help myself to another baked potato as Aaron glares at me.  I don't care.  I am officially Teflon.  Partnered with the one person who has the connections that could probably put his ass in prison for beating me.  If I had evidence, that is.  The scars on my back could have been an accident.  But something fresh would do him in. </p><p>Reaching over, I scoop up a massive spoonful of bacon bits to sprinkle on the potato as he continues to quietly seethe next to me at the table. Fuck, I'm going to be eating cafeteria food and microwave dinners for the next year at school—better make the good stuff count when I can get it.</p><p>Our dinner has been mostly about Aaron tonight, as with most nights, talking about the new production schedule for one of their projects and my mother chiding him about undue expenses with costuming for whatever this propaganda thing is.  I have a tendency of tuning out these conversations.  At least when Trina was around she added some gossip and fun to the dinner table.  Now it’s just work-talk while I focus on eating as fast as I can and getting out under the radar.</p><p>"So…" my mother takes a sip of her wine and forces a smile, glancing at my dad for a split second before zeroing in on me again. "How did last night go?  You disappeared so quickly when you got home I didn't get to ask."</p><p>"Good.  Really good," I offer and try to block further conversation with a forkful of potatoes. </p><p>"Good!  That's good…"</p><p>"Did you knock her up?"</p><p>The potatoes nearly fly out of my mouth at Aaron's question and I cough, trying to clear them before answering.</p><p>"What the hell?  No!"</p><p>"Why not?"</p><p>"Jesus, Dad."</p><p>He leans in, a sick smile twisting his face. "If you want, I can get a hold of some placebo birth control pills from the studio props department and…"</p><p>"Are you fucking kidding me? No!" I slam down my fork and turn to meet his eyes squarely. "Is that how it happened?  Did you do that to Mom?"</p><p>"No.  She did that all on her own, didn't you, Lynn?  To trap me into marrying you? Mercifully that one took care of itself.  You stuck around."</p><p>My mother has gone white as sheet, but she remains stoic, her only response to focus on her glass raising to her lips. The mention of the baby she lost always cuts her and Aaron enjoys torturing her with the memory.  And I've been powerless to step in.  Until now.</p><p>"Besides Dad, are you sure you want her to see me naked?" I feel a sneer creep across my face as I go in for the kill I've been waiting my whole life for. "Let her see the scars from your belt all across my back?  When she sees them, there'll be questions and I won't be afraid to answer.  Not this time.  Maybe I'll even let her tell her dad—show him for myself.  Then where will you be?  I don't see you being able to pay off or send Mr. Mars away that easily.  Do you?"</p><p>Aaron grits his teeth as his nostrils flare.  A direct hit.  He knows I'm right.  He knows I'm right and there's nothing he can do about it.  The universe stuck me with him as a father. In my head, <em> Orwell </em> just rectified that wrong.</p><p>"If you do that…" Aaron hisses. "I will bring so much pain on your mother she will never recover.  Do you hear me, boy?  I'll come after her so hard she'll wish she was dead.  And you will too."</p><p>The blood drains from my face, a chill passing over me as if Aaron just ripped my soul from my body. I know he'll do it too.  While he's left his physical punishments to me, the psychological torture on Mom has been numerous.  Belittling comments. Berating.  Humiliation. Flaunting his affairs—secret to the world, but known to her.  All of it chipping away at her self esteem until she became complacent and docile at home, only finding freedom in her work with the production company, ever fearful he would take that away too.</p><p>“She’ll report you. Leave you.”</p><p>“No.  No, she won’t.  And even if she did, I’d have the last laugh.”  He points his fork at her, releasing a sadistic chuckle. “Paralyze her, maybe?  Or disfigurement?  That beautiful face destroyed so even while I’m rotting in prison I’ll know that no man would touch her again.”</p><p>My body starts to vibrate with <em> fight </em> , even as my mind tries to focus on <em> flight </em>. </p><p>“If you touch her, I’ll kill you before you make it to jail.”</p><p>At this Aaron just laughs, spearing a piece of bloody steak and bringing it to his lips.  “No.  No you won’t.  You haven’t yet and you won’t now—now that you have Veronica. Just go about your life now Logan.  I’ll leave you alone to it and you leave me alone to mine, alright?”</p><p>He hasn’t touched Mom...yet.  All these years he hasn’t made a physical move against her.  And I’ll be damned if I’m the reason he does now.</p><p>“Fine.  I’ll leave you alone if you leave me alone.”</p><p>He smirks, his eyes lighting up knowing he’s won again.  Just as he’s been winning all my life.</p><p>"Now just remember...you got those scars when you wiped out on your bicycle on a gravel road on set when you were ten.  Remember Logan?"  Aaron feeds me my lines, as if I don't already know them. "It was scorching hot, and you weren't wearing a shirt.  They had to pull rocks embedded in your skin.  Terrible.  Absolutely terrible.  You screamed for hours in pain."</p><p>Well, he has that part right.  The first time he beat me with that belt I screamed and cried for hours until I passed out in my mother's arms.  The second time, my brain shut off to save me and I don't remember much of anything but the cracking sound of the leather cutting through the air.</p><p>"I remember."</p><p>The silence weighs heavy over the table as I refuse to break my eye contact with Aaron.  He will not get the better of me or my emotions today.  I'm hours away from my freedom and he won't take anything more from me tonight.</p><p>Pushing my chair back, I stand quickly, glancing between Mom and Aaron.  "Cab should be here shortly.  I'll be in my room.  Come and get me when it arrives.”</p><p>I take a step and my entire body vibrates with endorphins. I could grab the steak knife right now and quickly slit Aaron's throat.  I could punch him in the face, forcing him to punch me and give me some tangible fresh evidence on my body.  I want to do so many things to him but instead I just take a deep breath and continue walking towards my room.</p><p>In a few hours I'll be gone.  In a few hours, I'll be safe with Veronica. Until then, I just need to focus on getting the hell out.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <b>Veronica</b>
</p><hr/><p>So many emotions.  As I walk through the airport towards the boarding gate, I feel like I’m about to explode with the amount of emotion building in my body.  When Logan came to the door to retrieve me from home, I was already on the verge of tears while saying goodbye to my parents.  My mother may drive me bananas, but I’m still going to miss her. And I’m worried.  I’m worried that without me, the drinking she tries to hide will get worse.  Just recognizing that thought sent a jolt of fear through my body as I hugged her even harder.  It had been a long time since I worried about it—setting it aside several years ago when she curtailed the drinking after a month of therapy with Dad.  But now that I’m leaving, this fear that I’ve been trying to hide has lurched in my brain, settling in at the front of my mind with all the other things I’m worrying about.  </p><p>Logan helped my dad to the cab with my bags and shook his hand, listening patiently as my father wished us both the best luck at school and welcomed him back at Christmas break to join our family for our traditional celebrations.  The smile that crossed Logan’s face was so warm and appreciative that it made my heart flutter a bit when he enthusiastically accepted.  On the way to the airport however, my mood changed as all my anxiety caught up with me in the silence of the ride. The flight, my mother, Logan and I living together, seeing Duncan.   I tried to hold it together, but Logan must have seen my quiet tears in my reflection of the cap window because he reached over and took my hand without saying a word.  He didn’t say anything, just held my hand for the whole drive, and for the second time in 24 hours, his touch made me feel anchored to the world again.</p><p>As we approach the gate, I spot Duncan in one of the seats, staring off into space.  He seems so alone just sitting there among the other travellers, a vacant look across his face.  Again, Logan’s hand reaches out and finds mine under my winter coat, slung over my arm,  and my breath hitches, not used to having someone to grasp.</p><p>“Here we go…” Logan mutters as we approach and a big forced grin spreads across his face.  “Hey!  Donut!”</p><p>Duncan’s head jerks towards us, an involuntary smile spread across his face briefly before it falters, his eyes falling towards our hands, but he recovers enough when we approach to seem at least mildly happy to see us.</p><p>“Hey.  Was wondering about you guys. I’ve been here for almost an hour.” He nods at us both.  </p><p>“Security was brutal,” I offer. “You must have beaten the rush.”</p><p>“I did.  I remembered how long the good-byes took with Lilly and my parents when she left and asked them to drop me off really early so we could get it over with.”</p><p>Logan chuckles.  “Did Jake cry like he did with Lilly?”</p><p>Duncan rolls his eyes. “No, Dad didn’t cry for me.  But my Mom did.  Pop just gave me the normal lecture about bad influences and such.”</p><p>“Clarence thinks <em> I’m </em>the bad influence.” Logan jerks his thumb towards his face and laughs. “And we’re booked on the same flight so you’re already breaking your Pop’s rules.”</p><p>“He caught you sleeping with his daughter, Lo.  He may not be wrong.”</p><p>I can’t help the gasp that escapes me.  <em> Did everyone know about Lilly and Logan except me? </em></p><p>“What?!”</p><p>Logan coughs, glancing at me quickly before looking away like a dog caught peeing in someone’s shoe. “Maybe.  Once.”</p><p>“Lilly told me the cat was out of the bag.” A genuine smile of happiness crosses Duncan’s lips as he glances between us. “Should have never been a secret in the first place.  I mean, we’re all friends here and even I had to find out by catching you sneaking out of Lilly’s room at night.”</p><p><em> So, this is how it’s going to go. </em>  My stomach flips and turns, and I feel my emotions start to bubble up again.  I wasn’t even thinking about Lilly and Logan anymore, but adding that thought to my overwhelmed brain is starting to be too much.  Dropping Logan’s hand, I put down my carry-on and coat and begin to dig through my big leather purse, pretending to look for something, but just trying to keep my head down and avoid the conversation.</p><p>“That’s in the past,” Logan states firmly. I don’t look up but I can tell by his voice that he’s pissed. “Veronica and I are very much the present and future.  And Lilly and Sabrina are too.”</p><p>“Yeah…I don’t see that lasting very long.”  </p><p>My head jerks up and I frown at Duncan. “What are you talking about?  Lilly and Sabrina are fine.”</p><p>“Sometimes.” He shrugs. “But my Dad said that she’s been complaining a lot about Sabrina and they even had to call in a counsellor.”</p><p>“She never said anything to me about it,” I huff, unable to hide my annoyance that Duncan may know more about Lilly than me.  Up until she left for college, I knew everything about Lilly!  Well, almost everything…</p><p>“Hey, even <em> Orwell </em> can make mistakes.” </p><p>The way Duncan arches his eyebrow at Logan, then me, makes me think he’s talking about us.  And by the way Logan steps towards him, I know Logan thinks it too.</p><p>“What the hell are you trying to say, Duncan?  Because we might as well get this all out in the open before we all fly across the country together.”</p><p>Logan’s fists ball at his side and I immediately lunge towards him, grasping his nearest fist with my hands. As I open my mouth to speak, a voice comes on the intercom.</p><p>
  <em> “All passengers for Flight 837 to Chicago Airport, set to depart at 21:00 hours, Gate G is now open and boarding.  Please have your Government I.D., security clearance papers, and boarding pass ready.  Thank you.” </em>
</p><p>Stepping in close to Logan, I realise he’s breathing slowly through his nose, trying to keep himself in check, and I place my hand on his chest, feeling it rise and fall as his heart beats hard against my palm.</p><p>“We need to go, Logan.  Get your papers out of your carry-on.  Please.”</p><p>His eyes flash from Duncan’s to mine and he nods, turning away from our friend.  He relaxes his balled hand and I slip mine into his again, giving it a squeeze.  As we approach the boarding gate, we fall into line and he lets go of my hand, pulling his backpack off his shoulder and reaching in to retrieve his papers.  I pull mine easily from my purse and clutch them, allowing him to take my free hand in his again.</p><p>“Ready?”  I ask, hesitantly.</p><p>“Ready,” he replies with a sigh.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <b>Logan</b>
</p><hr/><p>I offered Veronica the window seat but instead, she took the centre one, putting herself smack dab between me and Duncan.  It took some time for him to catch up with us and it allowed us to get ourselves comfortable next to each other.  Veronica pulled out a stack of magazines to amuse herself while I stuffed my winter jacket and carry-on under my seat and pulled out a book and a small light so I could read.  </p><p>We had discussed whether it was better to sleep or just stay awake for the four-hour flight and we decided that we would make do with an extra cup of coffee after we went through security and just motor through until we got to our dorm.  Once we got to Chicago, we were to meet at the entrance to Terminal 2 where a bus from the college would be waiting for all the students flying in from across the country. We would be given our room assignments and keys by an advisor on our way and we figured we would make it to our dorm by around 3:00 or 4:00 a.m. Since there were no classes until Monday, we agreed to hang on and wait to crash when we got to the dorm room, then sleep as long as we needed the next day. </p><p>It’s turning out to be a good choice because between the strong, crappy airport coffee and the argument with Duncan, there was no way in hell I'm going to sleep on the plane.  Duncan always did have a dumbass streak through him, but now that Veronica is partnered with me, he’s just letting it all show.  This is supposed to be my best friend and it’s painfully clear that he’s determined to make his disdain for our union very clear.</p><p>Veronica buckles her seat belt and arranges her magazines on her lap. "So, just so you know, my father gave me some money he saved for us as a gift.  He suggested that we use it for things we need for our dorm, just in case we wanted to make it feel more comfortable."</p><p>
  <em> Damn, Veronica's dad really is the best. </em>
</p><p>"Wow.  That's really generous of him.  I'll have to thank him the next time you're on the phone with him."</p><p>"Well, your parents were awfully nice to pay for the hotel and all the food we consumed last night." She wrinkles her nose as she smiles and it seems like she's happy with the memories we made. </p><p>"It was a pretty good night."  I offer my hand to her and she pauses, blushing, before wrapping her fingers around mine.</p><p>God, none of our sexuality classes ever talked about how good it feels to hold the hand of someone you care about, and who cares about you.  Because after last night, I'm convinced that Veronica at least enjoys my company and maybe even gives two fucks about me as well, which is a wonderful feeling.  This currently puts her in a close race with my mother as the top two people in the world who care.  </p><p>She’s dressed in black tights, boots, and a bright yellow oversized knit sweater, which makes her look not unlike a big cozy bumble bee.  At least she thought ahead.  As soon as I sat down, I regretted wearing jeans and a henley.  The cabin was cold and Chicago would be even colder.  At least I didn’t pack my jacket in the suitcase.</p><p>Duncan stops in the aisle by his seat, his face puckering like he's about to sit beside a rotting trash monster and not his friends. With a grunt, he opens the overhead compartment and stuffs his carry-on inside.  Once he's done, he leaves the door open, because of course he would make the stewards close it, and I stifle an eye-roll as he flops down in his seat.</p><p>"So, did you get your schedule yet, Veronica? I got mine in the mail last week."  He begins fumbling with his seatbelt and I want to reach over and help the manchild.</p><p>"I did, with the orientation package. What pre-law tract did you choose?" </p><p>Veronica squeezes my hand again and I feel like she's telling me it will all be okay between us and Duncan.  So I sit back in my seat and close my eyes, content for now to listen to them talk.</p><p>"I finally settled on psychology as well, so I was just thinking we may have some classes together."</p><p>This time I squeeze Veronica's hand and I hear her breath hitch.  I may have squeezed too tightly.</p><p>"We probably will.  What do you have first thing on Monday?  If I remember correctly, I have Sociology followed by Criminal Justice."</p><p>"I have Sociology too!  Maybe we can walk to class together.  It'll be good to have a friendly face on the first day."</p><p>"Yeah.  I will be.  Logan?  What do you have on Monday?"</p><p>I stuffed my orientation package in my suitcase after a cursory glance at it.  I have no idea what I have Monday.  Or Tuesday.  Or Wednesday.</p><p>"Not too sure.  I think Political Science.  Or maybe Post-War History.  I dunno.  One of those rings a bell."  I keep my eyes closed but I can just imagine Duncan smirking at my lack of preparation.</p><p>"We should probably put up our schedules in our dorm so we know where each of us is during the day."</p><p>"And, why would you need to know that?"</p><p>Veronica sucks in a sharp breath and I open my eyes to see her frowning at me.</p><p>"Because we're partners."</p><p>"And that means knowing where each other is every moment of the day?"</p><p>"Well...I…"</p><p>Duncan snorts, holding his fist over his mouth as he chuckles.</p><p>"Veronica, I just mean that we're partners, not each other's keepers.  My own mother doesn't know where I am 24 hours a day.  I'm going to go out on a limb and say that when we aren't in class, we'll be in our dorm room together anyway, since there's really nowhere else to go.  Unless you feel like taking a pleasant drive along the Great Lakes to the Eastern zone to see the radioactive waste that used to be Pennsylvania?"</p><p>She scowls at me in that way she's done so many times during a debate, with daggers in her eyes and I wonder if I've pushed this a bit too far.</p><p>"Maybe your mother should have kept better track of you. Besides sneaking around with Lilly, all your procuring of drugs and alcohol while underage seems like something she may have wanted to know about."</p><p>Ugh.  Yep.  Direct hit once again.  Damn, I forgot how sweet Veronica liked to go for the jugular when cornered.  She must get it from her Dad's law enforcement genes.</p><p>"Good thing I'm of age now to get those things <em> legally </em>." I can't help the grin which spreads across my face as I lean closer to her, but still within earshot of Duncan. "And I don't think I'll be leaving our bed for sex with anyone else ever again."</p><p>The implication has its desired effect when I look at Duncan and see he's turned beet red with anger at the assumption that Veronica and I have already had sex.  Unfortunately, Veronica has turned the same shade, but more from embarrassment.</p><p>Everyone sits in silence as I lean back into my seat, still grinning at my victory.  I give Veronica's hand a squeeze and realize there is now moisture between our skin and she pulls away, wiping her hand on her jeans. Without a word, she opens the first magazine on her lap just as the steward announces our imminent departure.</p><p>Our first fight as a couple and I feel like I <em> won </em>.  Not a bad start to this adventure.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <b>Veronica</b>
</p><hr/><p>How can I be so mad at him and still so turned on? <em> And I don't think I'll be leaving our bed for sex with anyone else... </em>  I know he said it for Duncan's benefit, I'm not an idiot, but that's the sexiest thing anyone has ever said to me and now I'm caught in this limbo where I want to either lean over and kiss him, or kick him in the shins.</p><p>
  <em> And I don't think I'll be leaving our bed for sex with anyone else... </em>
</p><p>Damn.  How long is that going to stay in my head?  Now I'm trapped between him and Duncan and the plane is taxiing down the runway and I want to toss back a sexy reply but my brain is so fried from what he said, I can't think of anything good to say in rebuttal. </p><p>
  <em> What makes you think I'd let you leave? </em>
</p><p>Nope.  I sound like a stalker about to handcuff him to the bedpost.  A tickle of excitement runs through me at that thought and I feel my cheeks heat up again. </p><p>
  <em> What makes you think you’d be able to walk after I’m done with you? </em>
</p><p>Where the hell did that come from?  A movie?  A book?  Apparently there’s a <em> femme fatale </em> Veronica hidden somewhere in my body and I didn’t even know she existed.  I open my mouth to say what I’m thinking, but then clamp my lips together tightly.  Do I really want to say this in front of Duncan?  Probably not.  We just had what I think constitutes our first fight as a couple in front of Duncan and I would rather not give him any more of a show.</p><p>Wait.  I think I just missed the bigger picture in what Logan just said.  Does this mean he wants to have sex with me now?  Like, right now?  As in when we get to our dorm room tomorrow morning?  Just walk in, toss off our clothes, and jump into bed together?  Because maybe that's not a bad idea.  New life together.  New space together. We could christen the room, so to speak.  No pressure either.  Just two newly partnered people, enjoying their time together in their new apartment. Naked. Okay, maybe a shower first.  And some food. But then, definitely sex.</p><p>"Was that your stomach grumbling?" Logan asks and I glance over to see his eyes are still closed as we ascend past the clouds. "Or the plane engine?"</p><p>"I am getting a little hungry.  When we're cleared to take off our seatbelts, I'll grab the cookies my mother baked for us."</p><p>He snorts and opens one eye towards me. "I like how your mom packed us something, as if we were going to summer camp.  It's nice.  Comforting."</p><p>“Your mom doesn’t strike me as the <em> making cookies </em> kind of mom.”</p><p>“No. She’s more of the ‘go and see if you can steal some cookies from craft services’ kind of mom.”</p><p>“Right.  I guess you grew up on movie sets before you moved to Neptune. That must have been fun.”</p><p>He turns his head to look out the window into the blackness of the night. “Yeah.  In hindsight it was.  The Government mandate to provide childcare for all meant that Trina and I ended up being tutored with a bunch of other kids whose parents needed the service on location.  That was cool.” He turns back to me and runs his fingers through his hair. “When I was about nine years old, they were making a movie along the Southern Radiation Zone, near what was once Texas.  Since there were only about five of us kids on set, the teacher arranged for the horse trainer to take us out into the desert and we rode all the way to the fence around the area and she did her history lesson about the war while we looked out into the emptiness left by the bombs.”</p><p>A chill runs down my spine.  “That’s incredible.”</p><p>“Maybe that’s why <em> Orwell </em> placed me into a political career path.  I want to make sure a civil war like that never happens again.  You know, I’ve been volunteering at the Veterans’ Hospital for a few years now, and the stories they tell make me more convinced we should never go back to how it was before, but I’m also not convinced we are on the right path now.”</p><p>“Really?  How so?”</p><p>“I think we need to do more to attract people from other parts of the world to move here.  The New Democracy seems to think what is left of us can repopulate the country to a point where our population growth is higher than our decline.  But that means a commitment to changing our immigration policies and making our country seem like an appealing place to live again.”</p><p>“Because us blowing up half of our own population is a hard thing to shake off in the eyes of the world?”</p><p>He chuckles again, an ironic smile on his lips.  “Yeah.  It kind of is.”</p><p>“Logan’s one of those people who thinks things are better now.” Duncan laughs and leans over towards our conversation.  “Your Dad and my Dad were well on their way to being very rich before the war, Logan.  Now, they do the same work for the same wages as everyone else.  We live in the same homes as bus drivers and go to the same schools.  How is that an advancement of society?”</p><p>“Look Duncan, I like you in spite of your old-school capitalist views.” Logan smirks, his gaze flashing between us.  “I’m not saying there aren’t problems with the system now—far from it—but that’s why I think that enticing new people and great minds to our country will help us in the long run to find new and better ways to deal with our problems.”</p><p>“Personally, I like your way of looking at things, Logan. It’s really quite hopeful.  That’s what I want to do as a judge as well—help change the system for the better so we can all move forward.”</p><p>This time, we both reach out our hands to each other at the same time. When they connect, I feel the energy from him course through my veins.</p><p>“I’m sorry I was a jerk about the schedule.  I'm just not used to anyone really caring about where I am,” he offers, quietly. "Bygones?"</p><p>"Bygones. We're still figuring this out."</p><p>"Yeah.  I guess we are."</p><p>"Now, if you gentlemen will give me some peace and quiet…" I stick my tongue out and glide my thumb over it before dramatically flipping the next page of my magazine. "...I have dorm decor ideas to research in this stack of old magazines Lilly sent me.  I will now tune you both out for some mindless, fluffy goodness."</p><p>My hand jiggles slightly as Logan laughs.  Keeping one hand in mine, he places his book on his lap and runs his index finger along the top pages to find the edge of his bookmark. His middle finger slides between the pages and pushes it open, his hands big enough to spread the pages wide across his lap and I find myself captivated by his fingers stretched across the page, long and slender.  How could I know him for years and never truly focused on him before?  These little details of Logan that make up the entire man.   </p><p>There's a loud clicking and Duncan releases his seatbelt. I catch him glaring at Logan as he stands. "Bathroom," he mutters before skulking down the aisle.</p><p>"He'll get over it," Logan whispers close to my ear, sending a tingle down my spine. "Duncan will get partnered eventually and forget all about us."</p><p>I know it's true.  Time will pass and Duncan will move on. </p><p>"God, I hope so."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Out of respect for the difficult conversations going on over social media, I won't be posting my updates on Twitter anymore for this fic.  Please check back on Fridays, subscribe to this fic, or check out the VM Fic Club Discord channel for notices on this story.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/>
<p>
  <b>Veronica</b>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Carry me.  Please.  I’m begging you.”</p>
<p>Logan just laughs and takes the handle of my rolling suitcase from me and turns left, continuing down the long stretch of hallway.  It’s 4:00 a.m., we’ve just walked up three flights of stairs to our dorm floor, and I am officially done.  Between putting up with Duncan’s passive aggressive attitude, waiting at the airport for the other students to arrive, staying awake during the dorm orientation on the bus ride to campus, and then hauling our gear upstairs, I am completely and utterly done.  Logan managed to get in a quick cat-nap at the airport after we scarfed down some stale sandwiches, which is good because at least one of us is somewhat refreshed and coherent enough to find our room. </p>
<p>As I remove my thick winter coat, I watch him roll our suitcases down the dimmed hallway.  At the airport, Duncan got into a conversation with a few other single guys on their way to campus.  It was nice to get a break from him, and Logan and I were able to carry on our easy conversation while we waited for the bus. Every time we have the chance to talk, I feel as if I'm seeing more and more of the Logan that Lilly described.  In the low tones and intense gaze, I also feel like I may be getting to know the Logan that he might not show everyone else.  The fact that he volunteered with veterans had taken me by surprise, but the earnest way in which he spoke about the future of our country made me see more than just the argumentative side of his personal views that I saw in Debate Club.</p>
<p>I catch up with him at the door of our dorm room—the last one on the floor, just next to the exit to the fire stairwell.  He unlocks the door and grins, pushing the door open gently as he whispers, “After you.”</p>
<p>Stepping past him into the doorway, I pause and feel around the corner for the lights.  When I find the switch and flick it on, the fluorescent light illuminates the small entryway.  As I step in, there's a little galley kitchenette to my immediate right, with a sink and cupboards above and below with a small microwave, toaster, and coffee maker on the counter.  Carrying on, I realize there’s a long closet with sliding double doors behind the front door and next to that is the open door to our small bathroom.  It’s the main living space that causes me to gasp.  The space is a large rectangular cinder block space in stark white.  On the far right wall are two pine desks, pushed side by side with computers on each and a printer between.  On the closer wall near the bathroom door are two tall wooden chests of drawers.  Around the corner from the kitchenette is a small white metal café table and two chairs.  But in the middle of it all, against the far wall with the windows set to either side is one bed with two side tables.  One…not so big bed.</p>
<p>“Is that a double bed?!”  I gasp, dropping my carry-on and purse to the ground.</p>
<p>“Sure looks that way,” Logan responds, coming closer, and I hear the click of the door locking behind us.  “Guess it could have been worse and they could have tried to stick us in a single.”</p>
<p>Tossing my coat onto one of the wooden cafe chairs, I wander over to the bed and place my hand on the slatted wooden bed frame. It’s covered with a bland grey quilted cover and now that I’m closer I notice that there are more drawers underneath the bed, peeking out from under the blanket.</p>
<p>“Will we both fit in it?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know.  Let’s give it a try.”</p>
<p>He throws his jacket over mine as he wanders to the right side of the bed and toes off his shoes before laying down flat on top of the blanket, staring up at the ceiling.  With his broad shoulders and length, he takes up precisely half of the space.  I bite my lip and consider the remaining space as I toe off my shoes on “my” side.  Releasing a heavy sigh, I lower myself down and place my head on the pillow, wriggling onto my back while trying to cover my part of the bed property.  When I stop moving, Logan laughs.</p>
<p>“Someone in the government thought this through.” He raises his hands up and tucks them under his head and I nearly get his elbow in my face. “A queen or a king size bed would provide way too much space between couples.  Instead, some genius said ‘hey, we can save on space and maybe hurry up the procreation process by putting them in a tiny bed together.’”</p>
<p>I snort when I laugh and roll onto my side to look at him.  “Really?  You think the tiny bed is a government plot for quicker reproduction?”</p>
<p>“Actually, after seeing the cool houses made from recycled freight containers that the families with kids get, I’m seeing their plan pretty clear.  That couple who were in front of us in the bus—Wallace and Jackie, I think—did you see they got one?”</p>
<p>“Yes!  She must not be far along because when she stood up, I didn’t even notice a baby bump yet.  Although what the hell do I know about pregnancy except what they showed us in textbooks? She could be about to pop and I would think she just ate too much.”</p>
<p>Logan rolls onto his side to face me. "She just passed her first trimester.  I heard them talking to another couple about it while you were in the bathroom at the airport."</p>
<p>"A new partnership, a baby, and college.  That's quite a feat."</p>
<p>"Makes sense.  They get better accommodations, access to the campus daycare, parental leave from classes for up to a year, plus the $10,000 that they can bank until they’re out of college.  It's a pretty sweet deal."</p>
<p>I'm about to reply when a giant yawn takes over my mouth instead of words and my body shakes with exhaustion. Any thoughts I may have had about sex are quickly being replaced in my head by the luxurious imaginings of sleep. Which is a bummer because the fluorescent light is catching Logan’s face just so as to accentuate the soft curves of his cheeks, sprinkled with some five-o’clock shadow that makes him look on the ruggedly handsome side, more than the jackass-cute side I usually see.</p>
<p>In response to my yawn, Logan yawns as well, his mouth opening so wide I can feel the heat of his breath from our proximity.  He smells of coffee and egg salad and the musky hint of sweat and suddenly any and all possibilities of sexy-times are officially off the table as my nose wrinkles in disgust, because if that’s what <em> he </em> reeks of then I can’t smell any better at the moment.  And while I’m not expecting candles and roses for our first time, I would like us to at least feel like humans and not two sacks of skin that traveled across the country together.</p>
<p>"We should get ready for bed," I offer, but make no move as exhaustion keeps me firmly in place.</p>
<p>"You’re right.  We should.”  His eyes meet mine but he doesn’t move either.  “Do you want to go first?”</p>
<p>“Go?  Where?”</p>
<p>“To get dressed in the bathroom? Brush your teeth.  Do whatever else it is girls do in there.”</p>
<p>“Plot to take over the world.  That’s what we’re doing.  Plotting.”</p>
<p>“Ah.  I suspected as much.  Is that why you like to go in groups?”</p>
<p>“Yes.  That’s exactly it.  You found us out and now I’ll have to kill you.”</p>
<p>“Can’t you just make me your minion instead?  Do your evil bidding?  Keep me chained to the bed and all that.”</p>
<p>Heat pools in my belly and his eyes darken in my direction.  Between the jet lag and the sleep deprivation, I’m feeling slightly light-headed, without the necessity of alcohol.</p>
<p>“You’ve now made two cracks about doing my bidding.  I’m starting to think this is a thing with you.”</p>
<p>“Who knows?  It may be something we need to explore further.”</p>
<p>Biting the side of my lip I pause, suddenly wide awake.  “You know…” I begin slowly.  “You’re quite the flirt when you want to be, Logan Echolls.”</p>
<p>“I guess you’ve found me out, Veronica Mars.”</p>
<p>“You’re forgetting...I’ve been your friend for years.  I’ve seen you flirt with girls before.  Lots of girls, in fact.”</p>
<p>For a split second his face falters and he frowns, but collects himself quickly to forge on. “I wouldn’t say lots but yes, I may have attracted my share of attention from both women and men.”</p>
<p>It’s my turn to falter and I tilt my head to the side, confused. “Women and men, huh?”</p>
<p>“Perhaps.  Not saying I did anything about it, since I chose to be matched with a woman by <em> Orwell </em>, but I'm also not completely 100% on the hetero-scale either.”</p>
<p>My surprise turns to a sharp yawn that escapes me and he laughs.  Pulling his arm high above him, he drops his wrist watch in front of his face and sighs.  “It’s almost 4:30.  We should table this discussion for now and go to sleep.”</p>
<p>“Hmmm…” is all I can manage as I roll away from him and push myself to stand.  Stepping over to my suitcase, I lay it down on the floor in the middle of the room and unzip it, tossing it open to find a pair of sleep shorts, t-shirt, and clean underwear.  I also grab my travel bag with my tooth-brush in it and stand.  </p>
<p>“I won’t be too long,” I toss over my shoulder on the way into the bathroom.</p>
<p>“I'll be here,” he replies as I close the door.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <b>Logan</b>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>When the door lock clicks, I roll over her side of the bed and scoot to my suitcase, dropping it on the ground and unzipping it.  Grab sweats.  Grab t-shirt.  Grab toiletry bag.  Zip everything up again.  Keeping my eyes on the door, I quickly pull off my shirt and toss it over to my side of the bed, where it lands out of sight.  With a deep breath, I pull off my jeans and underwear and pull on the new sweats, grabbing the pile of dirty clothes and tossing it over with the shirt.  I walk over to the kitchen sink and open my toiletries to brush my teeth.  As I brush, I imagine Veronica on the other side of the door, doing the same.  I just have to make it back to bed before her.  I know I was flirting but the last thing I need is for us to have sex tonight.  It’s too soon.  Too soon for her to see.</p>
<p>My scars prickle and I ignore them. Aaron’s not around anymore.  He can’t hurt me.  The only one who can is myself.  And Veronica.  Because the truth is that I’m pretty sure she's capable of breaking my heart.  The way we were talking during our travels, I think we finally really connected and I’m hoping that over the next few days, we can do more of that—talk and connect without having to worry about our parents or Lilly or Duncan getting in the way of things.</p>
<p>Rinse.  Spit.  Put the toothbrush back in my bag and cross back to the bed.  As I pull back the covers, Veronica opens the door.  She’s in another pair of those short black sleep shorts and a black and white striped t-shirt and her face is a glowy pink and glistening from washing her face. I dive under the covers so she can’t see the erection that suddenly appeared and roll onto my side, facing her pillow.</p>
<p>“You can turn off the lights, if you want.”</p>
<p>“Oh!” she blinks, glancing around at our suitcases strewn across the floor.  “Okay.  Give me a sec to dodge the mess.”</p>
<p>She makes her way to the door and I hear the lock clicking before the lights go out.</p>
<p>“Marco…” I call into the darkness of the room.  The lights from outside filter between the Venetian blinds but it’s still not enough to see well. Holding my breath for a second, I run through my list in my head...<em> Keith Mars, large gun, angry father, possible castration.  </em>With my boner now subsiding, I decide to take the plunge into deeper water and pull back the covers on her side of the bed. </p>
<p>“Polo,” she calls back and I hear her shuffling her feet over the heavy pile carpeting until she appears in silhouette near the mattress.</p>
<p>“Marco…”</p>
<p>“Polo!” Pulling back the covers all the way, she slides under the thin blanket and immediately shivers. “Oh God, Marco…the water’s cold!”</p>
<p>“We’re not in California anymore.”  I chuckle.   Raising my part of the blanket, I open my arms.  “Need some warmth?”</p>
<p>I hear her breath hitch in the darkness, the whites of her eyes wide enough to catch the small tracks of light.  She hesitates for a moment before rolling over, scooting into my arms.  Her body stiffens against me like a plank and I drop the blanket over her body, my arm coming down on top to rest across her waist.  Underneath, I can feel her muscles tense against mine, her breathing heavy and I can sense the fear in her, even with her back turned to me.</p>
<p>“Better?”</p>
<p>“Yes, but I think we need to put a warmer comforter on our list of supplies to pick up tomorrow.  And maybe some side table lamps. Do you like reading in bed?  Because I sometimes do, so side table lamps would be good…” There’s a shake in her rapid speech and I can feel her anxiety about being next to me starting to come out in her monologue so I just stay still and wait.  “Oh!  And towels.  They only gave us a few so if we don’t want to do laundry every couple of days, we should get some more.  Which means we also need laundry detergent. And maybe some drapes because those plastic blinds are ugly. Did you see there’s already some curtain rods up?  When we wake up, we can put our stuff away in the drawers and make a list of what we need over breakfast so we don’t have to go to the store twice. What do you think?”</p>
<p>“I think it’s all very domestic.”</p>
<p>“What’s that supposed to mean?”</p>
<p>“It means I’m looking forward to it.  I’m looking forward to making this room a warm and inviting home for us, Veronica.  Just you and me.”</p>
<p>“Oh…” She breathes and she presses back until she’s flush against me, her body relaxing slightly as she does. “Maybe with a warmer blanket, you won’t be forced to keep me from freezing every night.  I mean, this is the second night in a row I’ve found myself in your arms.”</p>
<p>“Or maybe...we get a warm duvet and we continue to snuggle underneath it every night, because I have to admit, I do enjoy having you here in my arms.”</p>
<p>“You do?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.  Yeah, I do.  Do you like it too?”</p>
<p>She hesitates, shifting her shoulders as she burrows deeper under the covers, tucking her head just under my chin. “Yeah.  I kind of do.  Is that okay?  The cuddling, I mean.  Just cuddling with nothing more?”</p>
<p>“You say that like you’re worried.”</p>
<p>“I’m not!  I mean, I just wanted to make sure you were okay with it too.”</p>
<p>“Veronica, I promise you this—I’m not going to do anything to you in your sleep.  I don’t want you to be afraid to sleep next to me because you think I want or need <em> more </em> and will just help myself.  You don’t belong to me and I don’t belong to you.  I won’t grope you, won’t coerce you, won’t demand anything of you that you are not willing to give, fully and completely.  You have my word.  All I want to do is share this bed with you.” I pause, staring at the back of her head before I bring mine closer to her.  “But if you will let me, there is one thing I’d like to do…”</p>
<p>“What’s that?’</p>
<p>Slowly, I lean forward and kiss the top of her head softly, breathing in the gentle scent of her before moving my head back comfortably onto my pillow.</p>
<p>“Good night, Veronica.”</p>
<p>With that, I feel the rest of the tension in her body ease and she sighs, shifting so her legs now follow mine.  For a moment, I listen to her breath in the silence before she speaks again, soft as a kiss sent out in the darkness.</p>
<p>“Good night, Logan.  Sleep well.”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <b>Veronica</b>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>I can see the bright light in the room through my eyelids and I squeeze them tighter, trying to block it out.  That's when it hits me how cold I am and I pull the covers tightly around me, trying to shield me from the forces of nature attacking my senses.</p>
<p>"Good morning."</p>
<p>Squinting into the brightness of the room, I look for Logan, still gathering the covers around me as I sit up slightly.  He's sitting at the table, coffee in hand, his feet up on the other chair.  He's already dressed in green khakis and an orange plaid shirt, shaved and showered, and he grins at me.</p>
<p>"I made coffee.  They left us with a small tin of grounds, some powdered creamer, and sugar.  Do you want some?"</p>
<p>"Yeah.  Sure.  Please." He stands to walk over to the kitchen and I rearrange my pillows and scoot over to my side of the cold bed.  "What time is it?"</p>
<p>"Elevenish.  It was too bright for me to sleep anymore, so I took a shower.  I also started a list of things we could use around here." </p>
<p>As he moves towards me with my coffee in a small white ceramic cup I realize he's also moved our luggage from the middle of the floor, so not only is he clean, but he's been productive. He sets the mug down on my side table and smiles, pausing for a second and my heart leaps as the thought that he may lean over and give me a good morning kiss dances through my head.  But instead, he walks back to his chair and I pout at his retreat.</p>
<p>"Definitely need bigger coffee mugs.  I'm already on my second cup."  He leans over to write on the paper. "I wrote down all the things you mentioned last night and I added laundry hampers. And unless we want to eat in the cafeteria every morning, we'll have to get some food, since they only gave us some basics for the next few days. I found a couple of small boxes of cereal, some bread, and butter in the fridge."</p>
<p>"Well, my father gave us $2,000 he saved over the years, so that should be more than enough to get us what we need, plus some extra food until our Student Stipend cards are handed out on Sunday at orientation."</p>
<p>"Excellent.  I'm sure the Campus center is going to be packed today, so I was thinking we could take a taxi into the city and hit one of the department stores.  They'll have more selection than just school and government branded stuff."</p>
<p>"You mean you don't want to sleep under a big Novo Terra branded quilt?" Wriggling out from my cocoon of covers, I reach for my coffee and grin.  The cup is hot and I wrap my cold fingers around as an involuntary shiver runs through me.</p>
<p>"Um, no. Thanks." Logan's eyes dart from me, back to the page, his cheeks now tinged pink.</p>
<p>Frowning at him, I wonder what caused this reaction.  His eyes flash towards me again and back to the page as he shifts in his chair, looking like he's in discomfort. </p>
<p>Raising my coffee to my lips, I pull my arms close to my body and that's when I realize my nipples are hard.  And I'm in a thin shirt.  Heat rises up my neck and to my face as I try to cover my chest with my arms while I sip my coffee, keeping my eyes firmly averted from Logan's.  Even though it's not sexual, there's something weird about having such a reaction in front of him, alone, in our room.</p>
<p>But that's the thing...it's <em> our </em> room now. We're going to be privy to all manner of intimate activities due to proximity.  That's the point.  What the government wants of us.  Forced intimacy.</p>
<p>"So, yeah…" He slides his legs under the table, frowning at the paper and wriggling uncomfortably in the wooden chair. "I think that's all for the list."</p>
<p>Then he does it.  He sneaks his hand down to his pants and adjusts his fly.  And that's when I see it.</p>
<p>
  <em> Oh my God.  He's hard! </em>
</p>
<p>I almost spit out my coffee as I realize why he looks so uncomfortable. Thanks, Human Sexuality class.  He's turned on by me, my nipples, and this cup of coffee...okay, maybe not the coffee (even though it is damn good) but I managed to turn him on and didn't even have to try! A giddy tickle runs through me and I fight the grin I feel pulling at my cheeks, trying not to give away how happy I am at this discovery.</p>
<p>
  <em> I turned him on!  </em>
</p>
<p>I really shouldn't be this happy.  It's a ridiculous thing.  I should not be defined by how I make a man feel or not feel.  Like we learned in class, a person's sexual feelings are their own and we need to respect them as personal and valid as they differ from person to person.</p>
<p>But still…</p>
<p>
  <em> I turned him on. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <b>Logan</b>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>Apparently tugging in the morning shower is not going to keep my thoughts of having sex with Veronica at bay. My deep, deep desire to strip her naked in <em> our </em> new bed and explore every soft inch of her.</p>
<p>Also thinking like that is not going to get rid of this boner.</p>
<p>
  <em> Baseball.  Algebra equations.  Nuclear war.  Keith Mars. </em>
</p>
<p>Okay.  Better.</p>
<p>Should I suggest she get warm flannel pajamas when we go shopping?  No. I'll live with the boners just to see her in those flimsy t-shirts and shorts every morning.</p>
<p>My cock twitches again and fuck, we've been living together all of seven hours and I'm about to burst.  It would help if she did something really off-putting like pick her nose or fart or just something, because right now, she's sitting in our bed, her blond hair all rumpled and cute, grinning like an idiot at the coffee I made her, and my body and my heart can't stand it.</p>
<p><em> Thank you, Orwell </em> .  <em> Thank you ever so much. </em></p>
<p>Fuck.  I really am cut out to be a politician.  I'm now praying to a government built computer.</p>
<p>"You make really good coffee."</p>
<p>"Thanks.  Another positive from hanging around movie sets.  All the important tips from Craft Services.  Two level tablespoons to one cup of water works perfectly every time."</p>
<p>"Ah, see, my dad likes his the consistency of battery acid, so it's nice to actually taste the coffee in this coffee."</p>
<p>"Well, if we have enough money, maybe we can upgrade to better coffee and a fancier machine.  One with a timer so we can wake up to it?"</p>
<p>"Mmmm...that would be nice."  She slips down a little more under the covers and closes her eyes.  </p>
<p>"I also put an alarm clock on our list.  Unless you packed one?"</p>
<p>"No.  I didn't.  But good idea. We don't want to be late for class on Monday."</p>
<p>"When we unpack I'll find my schedule and put it up on the kitchen cupboard door, so you can find me." I toss in a wink to let her know I'm teasing and she laughs.</p>
<p>"I'll put mine up as well.  So you can find me.  You know, just in case."</p>
<p>"In case what?"</p>
<p>She shrugs and takes another slow sip of her coffee, her eyes sparkling with delight.</p>
<p>"In case...you <em> need </em> me."</p>
<p>Jesus Christ, she's flirting with me. The mischief in her eyes is unmistakable.  In case I <em> need </em> her.  <em> Need.  </em> Want.  Desire.  Possibly verging on <em> pine for </em>.  How about all of the above?</p>
<p>She puts her cup back down, slips out from under the covers and stands, pausing as her body shimmies in the cold air.  Tiny goosebumps raise her skin and she crosses her arms under her breasts. Her nipples are hard again.  Fuck. To be able to run my tongue over them.</p>
<p>"Brrr. Time for a hot shower.  Thanks for the coffee."</p>
<p>With the confidence of a well trained soldier, she squares her shoulders and drops her arms to her side, strutting across the room and I can't help but follow her with my eyes, watching as she sways her hips in exaggerated movement just before disappearing into the bathroom and closing the door.</p>
<p>When the coast is clear, I gasp as my chest constricts.  She knows.  She's figured it out.  Somehow, this morning, Veronica's sensed what she can do to me.  Hell, what she could have done to any willing 18 year old man, or woman for that matter. And for some reason, I feel like she's going to draw this out.  Newfound power is an amazing intoxicant and right now, Veronica holds all the power in this relationship.  I handed it to her.  Whether we have sex or not is all in her dainty hands.</p>
<p>
  <em> Dear God, I'm gonna die. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <b>Veronica</b>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>"So the magazines all agree that we should have a colour scheme and patterns in mind when shopping." I pull a shopping cart from the corral and spin it around towards Logan, then stop.  He's frowning at our list before we even start.</p><p> </p><p>"How about orange plaid?"</p><p> </p><p>"No. Try again."</p><p> </p><p>"Hey!  In the taxi you said you wanted my opinion."</p><p> </p><p>"And I got it.  And now you have mine.  No orange plaid. If you were laying on the bed in that shirt I'd never find you."</p><p> </p><p>He opens his jacket and looks down at his orange plaid shirt. Closing it again, he shrugs. "I see nothing wrong with that."</p><p> </p><p>I can't help it as my eyes roll and I shake my head, but I manage to hold back my snicker.  "I don't even know what the selection will be like at this store.  Just because it's the biggest, doesn't mean they have the best selection.  It just means they have a lot of people buying from them so their selection may be tiny."  </p><p> </p><p>Glancing at the signs, I decide to push the cart in the direction of the bedroom department, in the hope of coming up with a decorating scheme based on our pick for a new comforter. Logan follows beside me, looking down each aisle as we pass.</p><p> </p><p>My mother often mutters about what we can and cannot find when we go shopping. When she was a child, there were stores everywhere, with every product imaginable. If you wanted a side table lamp, you had dozens of options in stores, in varying heights, shapes, and colours.  Now, we were lucky if we had five to choose from.  All trade and production was now tightly controlled by the government by approved manufacturers not associated with the old regimes. But apparently the downfall of capitalism meant that coordinating a room got harder.  Some of my mother's friends would still complain about it, twenty years later.  They had free healthcare and adequate roofs over their head and schooling for their children, but they still missed the opportunity to buy and return three sets of dishes before deciding on ones that worked with their decor.</p><p> </p><p>Turning down the bedding aisle, I'm pleasantly surprised by the selection along the wall.  Chicago being a larger centre must have allocations for better supplies.  Neptune was considerably lower on the food chain.</p><p> </p><p>Rolling to a stop, we gaze back and forth down the aisle.  In front of us stretches a variety of plain white duvets, covers, and comforters.  Behind us are sheets and pillowcases in a mishmash of colours and patterns, as well as accent pillows.  There is almost too much choice and my heart pounds at the prospect of a decision.</p><p> </p><p>"This one looks nice."  Logan lifts a large bag containing an orange and pink pattern of giant poppies splashed across a white background. "See.  That was easy."</p><p> </p><p>Stepping up to the bag, I read the label. "This is for a king sized bed.  And it's way too bright a pattern.  Let's go with something more subdued."</p><p> </p><p>He shrugs and stuffs the bag back on the shelf.  "Fine.  I'll look for subdued."</p><p> </p><p>"And maybe a duvet and cover instead of a comforter.  That way we can wash the cover if it gets dirty."</p><p> </p><p>"Well, things can get <em> dirty </em>in bed…" Logan wiggles his eyebrows at me and I shake my head and laugh. </p><p> </p><p>"Yeah.  Especially since I like eating cheesy puffs in bed while I read."</p><p> </p><p>He wrinkles his nose in disgust and steps back. "Gross!  Although I feel that orange is the clear winner for colour then.  We won't see any stains from your terrible habits."</p><p> </p><p>Carrying on down the aisle without him or the cart, I pause in front of a grey duvet cover, with a bold pattern of willow branches spreading up and across the grey in black and white. I check to make sure it's a double and pick it up to show Logan.</p><p> </p><p>"Here.  How about this one?  Neutral but natural."</p><p> </p><p>Logan's face scrunched. "It's dull."</p><p> </p><p>"It's not <em> dull </em> .  It's...contemporary." <em> At least I think that's the word the magazine used. </em></p><p> </p><p>He walks closer and reaches across me to grab another duvet package off the shelf.  The picture on the front shows a pattern of varying black circles filled in with shades of blue and grey.</p><p> </p><p>"Too busy."</p><p> </p><p>"What?  It's not.  It's <em> contemporary </em>."</p><p> </p><p>"It's <em> loud </em> contemporary.  I like <em> subdued </em> contemporary."</p><p> </p><p>Another couple pushing a cart come around the corner and I peek around Logan's body to get a better look. I get a rush of excitement when I realize that I recognize them.</p><p> </p><p>"Hey!  You guys go to Ginsberg University too." The words come out a little too high and excited and I make a note to tone it down as I walk over to them.</p><p> </p><p>At first they both frown at me before a big smile passes across the man's mahogany face. "That's right.  You guys were on the bus behind us.  I'm Wallace Fennel…." He steps around his cart and extends his hand to me.  "And this is my partner, Jackie Cook."</p><p> </p><p>"Hi!" She waves with a smile. Her bronze skin is radiant and all I can think about is how true the statement <em> pregnant glow </em> is right now because she looks truly stunning, even in this awful fluorescent light.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm Veronica Mars and this is my partner, Logan Echolls."  I shake Wallace's hand and Logan comes over and does the same, settling in beside me.  His hand presses against my coat at the small of my back and I glance up at him and grin.</p><p> </p><p>"We saw you guys are in the campus Family Houses.  Congratulations."</p><p> </p><p>Jackie's hand moves to her stomach and when she presses on her sweater I see a bump appear. "Thank you.  We're pretty excited."</p><p> </p><p>"I want enough kids to start a baseball team." Wallace slaps his hands together and runs them together, chuckling.</p><p> </p><p>"But since <em> that's </em>not going to happen…" Jackie laughs. "This is baby #1 of hopefully, eventually two."</p><p> </p><p>"Wow.  You guys have it all planned, huh?" Logan runs the back of his neck. "That's great."</p><p> </p><p>"Well, we're pretty lucky," Wallace states as he walks back over to Jackie, wrapping his arm around her waist and kissing the side of her head. "I didn't know Jackie before this, but when we sat down to talk about our union, before we accepted the match, we found out we had similar ideas about how we wanted our partnership to go, so it just worked."</p><p> </p><p>"So, how long have you guys been partnered then...if you don't mind me asking?" Logan says.</p><p> </p><p>"Only four months, but you know, when it's right, it's right." Wallace gives Jackie an affectionate squeeze and a tight smile crosses her face. "How about you guys?  When will you be joining us in family housing?"</p><p> </p><p>"Um, we'll come and visit when you have the baby?" Sarcasm.  My greatest defense.  And this would be the time to deploy it.</p><p> </p><p>Everyone laughs and Logan slides his arm further around my waist.</p><p> </p><p>"Veronica and I are on a pretty intense track.  She's on course to becoming a lawyer and eventually a judge.  I'm in the political stream."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh!  That's great, man.  So am I!" Wallace grins.  "Jackie is in the business and fashion design streams."</p><p> </p><p>"Wow! Double major and a baby?"  I gasp.  Truly feeling inadequate at the moment.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, I want to open my own boutique eventually so I figured this was the best way to go.  Become a government supplier for things other than what the world drops in our laps."</p><p> </p><p>"See!  Canada's castoffs!  Just like I said." Logan points at Jackie and chuckles.</p><p> </p><p>"I know you like that joke but you've used it too many times for it to still be funny." My hand lands on his chest and I pause as I look up at him and toss him a wink.  "To me, anyway."</p><p> </p><p>"It is funny," Jackie states with another laugh. "But only once."</p><p> </p><p>My eyes lock with Logan's for a moment, a tiny flutter of happiness flies through my body and I'm overcome with the sense that this all feels <em> right </em>.  It feels right to be with him. It feels right to banter with another couple.  It feels right to be here, arguing with him about duvet covers.</p><p> </p><p>"But seriously.  You should visit us before the baby comes.  Why don't you come over for dinner next weekend." Wallace runs his hand over his thick afro of hair. "I'll even cook."</p><p> </p><p>"That may not sell the invitation, Wallace." Jackie sighs. </p><p> </p><p>"We'd love to come.  Thanks for the invitation," Logan says. "I assume we're going to have some classes together, so I'll get your number from you this week.  In the dark, all of the houses looked alike."</p><p> </p><p>Wallace offers his hand to Logan again and they shake as Jackie takes up her post behind the shopping cart.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm looking forward to it. Happy shopping to you both. We'll see you around."</p><p> </p><p>We wait as they walk past us before disappearing at the end of the aisle, probably on their way to the baby bedroom section around the corner.</p><p> </p><p>"Look at us, adulting." Logan muses. "Shopping for things for our home and making dinner plans with other couples."</p><p> </p><p>"It did feel very adult-y. But it was nice to see another couple.  They look like they're really happy together."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah.  They do.  I hope they fall in love, one day."</p><p> </p><p>"Wait.  What?" I drop my hand from around his waist and glance down the aisles, making sure no one else is around and lower my voice.  "What do you mean by that?"</p><p> </p><p>"You get that they're not 'in love,' right? They just got partnered and chose to have a baby. There's no way they met and fell in love that fast."</p><p> </p><p>"Why on earth would you say that?" I hiss. "They're having a baby together. Of course they're in love."</p><p> </p><p>Logan arches his eyebrow at me and licks his lips, as if shocked into silence at what I've said.</p><p> </p><p>"You think sex is about love, don't you?"</p><p> </p><p>My mouth goes dry as my heart speeds up.  Dad's voice in my head when I was a child, answering my never ending questions about life: <em> We fell in love and had you </em> .  My mother later on asserting, <em> of course your father and I love each other...we had you. </em></p><p> </p><p>As my cheeks heat up, I turn away from Logan, realizing now how wrong I may be.</p><p> </p><p>"Veronica." His hand gasps my arm and I stop as he steps closer. I feel his breath on my cheek as he leans in behind me, speaking low.  "Is this why you're so upset about me and Lilly?"</p><p> </p><p>Tears well behind my lids and I blink them away.  Not only am I a prude, I'm a goddamn fool.  Of course this was what it was about.  Love.  I thought that I would be paired with someone and we would instantly fall <em> in love </em> and have sex, not the other way around.  That's why I didn't balk at the suggestion of a chaste relationship with Logan—because he's not in love with me.</p><p> </p><p>And he's right.  He's so very, very right.  Standing here in the middle of a department store aisle, he's delivering a harsh truth under bad lighting: if Logan and Lilly were having sex, I thought they loved each other.  Whether this makes things better or worse now, I still don't know.</p><p> </p><p>Dismissively waving my hand, I twist away from his grasp, walking towards the white duvets near the end of the aisle. "That cover will be fine.  Throw it in the cart.  I'll grab a duvet with a winter weight."</p><p> </p><p>When I turn to inspect duvet bags, I catch a glimpse of Logan in my peripheral vision, standing alone in the middle of the aisle, staring back at me.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> This isn't the time for this.  Not here.  Not right now. </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>Logan</b>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>I've let her have her quiet.  The rest of the shopping trip was filled with long silences between discussions of which lamps would fit on the side tables and whether we wanted an alarm that would wake us to music or incessant beeping or both. I didn't push for conversation or explanation and just gave Veronica the space she seemed to so desperately need.  I did manage to get a smile and an eye roll from her when I dropped to my knees and pretended to beg her for a big screen television instead of the necessities and I took it as a small but important victory, considering her mood.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>It took us some time to lug all of our bounty upstairs, dodging other people on the staircase and in the halls. While she began setting everything up, I ran over to the cafeteria and brought us back dinner—burgers and fries— which she thanked me for, then proceeded to eat while organizing the room and her things.  I decided that the best place for me was putting away my belongings in the drawers and closet, and setting up the kitchen with our new coffee maker and dishes, leaving the decorating to the person who actually cared.  We orbited each other in the small space, continuing on our paths but making sure not to get too close.  Every once in a while, she would ask my opinion and I would try to offer some words that made her think I cared about where we kept the towels or the position of the lamps.  But I mainly kept my head down and stayed out of the way as she worked.  I’ve moved on to organizing my desk when her voice breaks my concentration. </p><p> </p><p>"There. All done."</p><p> </p><p>I look up and she’s standing back by the kitchen, hands on hips, smiling as she takes in her handiwork.  I follow her gaze and see that our bed is now a focal point with our new bold blue and grey circular patterned duvet spread over it, the soft grey Jersey-knit pillows on top as accents and the ugly grey blanket that once covered it now folded neatly at the foot.  The brushed-silver lamps are on and they give the room a warm glow through the blue column shades.  We managed to find thick blue denim curtains and the contrast with the white brick walls and blinds make for a dramatic effect over the windows. Two beige wicker laundry baskets now sit side by side near our dressers and a full length mirror hangs on the back of the bathroom door.  The final touch is a large, cheap canvas picture of a field of bluebells hung on the only non-brick wall over the cafe table.</p><p> </p><p>The crooked smile of pride stretched across her lips makes me smile as well and I stand, walking around and taking everything in.</p><p> </p><p>"You did a great job.  It actually feels like a home."</p><p> </p><p>"It does, doesn't it?"</p><p> </p><p>Coming over to stand beside her, I take one more quiet glance around.  <em> Home </em> was never a happy place for me, but here, in this space, I can't help but be hopeful that maybe this home will be different.</p><p> </p><p>"Thank you."</p><p> </p><p>Veronica's forehead wrinkles. "For what?"</p><p> </p><p>"For this. I would have never thought to do anything different with what they gave us. So thank you for making our place so...so…"</p><p> </p><p>"Warm." She wraps her arm around mine. "It feels warm now.  And inviting.  Less like a prison cell and more like home."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah.  That's it."</p><p> </p><p>Silence falls between us as we both focus on the room again. My eyes linger on the bed and I'm consumed with thoughts of laying snuggled under the soft covers with her. Not my usual sexy thoughts of her that's for sure.  Knowing her true feelings about sex have completely put the brakes on my lascivious desires. She wants more, that much is clear.  I just don't know if she can have what she wants from me.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry I was so crass about Wallace and Jackie's relationship. I shouldn't have said anything."</p><p> </p><p>"No.  It's fine.  It's good, actually.  A good wakeup call for me." She toes the dingy grey carpet, looking away.  "These teenage dreams of what this partnership should or should not be need to give way to the reality of our situation."</p><p> </p><p>"And what do you see as our situation?"</p><p> </p><p>Veronica shrugs, raising her eyes to mine. "That we're basically rabbits in a big government experiment. We're fed, we're clothed, we're educated, we're partnered—all in a very large cage. We're monitored, tested, rated. And as romantic as they may have made partnering sound, in the end most of us are just breeders for the greater good. Whether we have children or not, we all are being bred ourselves to execute some great plan, set upon us by a computer."</p><p> </p><p>The rose coloured glasses have smashed. Standing there, eyes wide with newfound knowledge, Veronica stares back at me, a mixture of sorrow and fear on her face.  I take her hand and it twitches slightly in my grasp as I bring it to my chest, holding it to my heart.</p><p> </p><p>"That may be so, Veronica. But maybe we were meant to change it. <em> Orwell </em> put us on our paths for a reason. Maybe it put us together for that same reason.  I really don't know.  All I can hope is that if you and I can figure out how to not only be partners in name, but partners in life, that it will somehow all work out."</p><p> </p><p>She presses her palm softly against my chest and I close my eyes, imagining her touch radiating like fragments of electricity through my nerves. When I open my eyes, she's closer, staring up at me in silent questioning. As my hand reaches to cup her cheek, she gasps, her lips staying open, trembling. Lowering myself to her, she closes her eyes as my lips brush hers, ever so gently before retreating.</p><p> </p><p>Veronica's features soften as she opens her eyes and they sparkle in a way I've never seen before. Her teeth drag over her bottom lip as a grin pushes at her cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>"Again."</p><p> </p><p>Raising my other hand to cradle her cheek, she rises on her tiptoes to meet me halfway between our heights.</p><p> </p><p>"If you insist," I tease before my lips are on hers again, putting an end to all conversation.</p><p> </p><p>God, her lips are so unbelievably soft, even when pressed firmly against mine. I open my mouth a crack, sweeping my tongue between them, the taste of vanilla chapstick filling my senses. When her lips part, I drop my hands to her waist, pulling her against me, my tongue seeking a deeper connection to her. Her tongue brushes mine and a low hum of contentment resonates through her.  When her fingers creep up the back of my neck and thread through my hair, an involuntary moan of desire rumbles in my chest and she giggles, the sound getting caught in my mouth.</p><p> </p><p>There's a sharp knock and I freeze, fear rippling through me.  It takes a second for my brain to catch up with the feeling that I've been caught doing something I shouldn't and I ease my lips away from Veronica with a groan, pressing my forehead to hers.</p><p> </p><p>"You'll visit me in prison when I murder whoever is on the other side of that door, right?"</p><p> </p><p>"Maybe they'll let us share a cell if I help bury the body?"</p><p> </p><p>We both laugh, and fuck, does it feel good as all the tension releases from my body.  She lowers herself and wipes her lips with her fingers, stepping away.  Her eyes shoot to my fly and back up to my eyes and, Jesus Christ, I'm hard.</p><p> </p><p>Veronica's nose wrinkles as she winks at me, placing her hand on my shoulder when she saunters past.  "<em> I </em> better answer the door."</p><p> </p><p>"Good plan," I reply, adjusting the bulge in my pants before sitting in the chair, hoping to hide the protrusion under the table.</p><p> </p><p>I hear a huff of annoyance in the hallway before the door opens. </p><p> </p><p>"Hey, Duncan!  Hey, dude I don't know!" Her tone gives away exactly how pissed off she is and I snicker.</p><p> </p><p>"Hi, Veronica! Just wanted to stop by and say 'hi' to you guys.  Hope you don't mind...I got your room number from campus services."</p><p> </p><p>"Come on in, Donut!" I holler. "See how Veronica prettied up the place."</p><p> </p><p>Duncan steps into the space followed by a tall, shaggy-haired dude in a homemade band t-shirt. </p><p> </p><p>"This is Piz, my roommate.  Piz, this is my best friend, Logan."  Veronica squeezes past them and into the room, coming straight over to stand behind my chair. "And this is Veronica. She's best friends with my sister, Lilly."</p><p> </p><p>The dude waves and smiles at us, his eyes lingering a little too long on Veronica for my liking. I decide he's not worth getting up for so I nod my head at him instead, just to acknowledge his existence.</p><p> </p><p>"Nice room you've got here.  A lot like ours. Except we have two single beds instead of one."</p><p> </p><p>Duncan is frowning at our bed and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. <em> Get over it, Donut. </em></p><p> </p><p>"Thanks.  We had some money given to us by family so we decided to make it more homey." Veronica's hand lands on my shoulder and all the negative thoughts about Duncan magically disappear. "So Piz, what program are you in?"</p><p> </p><p>"Broadcasting and journalism.  I want to do the hard-hitting stuff eventually but right now, I've been doing more fun writing about local bands and such." He starts to wander around our room, looking over our stuff and I'm overcome with the urge to tell him to leave our shit alone.  But I don't. </p><p> </p><p>"I did a piece about the pre-war punk scene and how it’s lost its edge in the past twenty years.  It was picked up nationally by the Terra Times.  Maybe you read it?"</p><p> </p><p>Veronica and I exchange glances and she smiles kindly at him. "Must have missed reading the paper that day."</p><p> </p><p>Piz gives us a tight smile and steps back to Duncan, nodding at him, and they exchange a look that I can't quite place, but makes me uneasy.</p><p> </p><p>Faking a yawn, I stretch my arms out in a wide V above my head. "Well, thanks for the visit, guys, but I think Veronica and I are almost ready to turn in.  It was a late night last night, and with shopping and setting up and…"</p><p> </p><p>Duncan holds up his hand to stop me. "Sure.  We get it.  Just wanted to stop by and say 'hi.'" He smiles at Veronica. "I guess I'll see you in class on Monday?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes!  Bright and early!"</p><p> </p><p>Standing, I open my arms to corral Duncan and Piz towards the door.  "Let's all grab lunch together tomorrow before orientation.  Around noon in the cafeteria?" I offer as the two make their way to the door. "Veronica and I should be up by then."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah.  Sure." Duncan's back is turned but I can hear the tightness in his voice and I stifle a sigh.  One day, he'll get over this.</p><p> </p><p>They both walk into the hallway and I tip a quick two-finger salute to them. "Great!  See you guys then."</p><p> </p><p>Without waiting for a response, I close the door, locking it for the night behind them. Pressing my palm to the door, I take a second to regroup. Where were we before hurricane Duncan blew through?  Oh, right, I was in the middle of kissing my partner.  Smiling to myself, I turn on my heels to find Veronica going through her drawers, pulling out her sleepwear.  She looks up and smiles shyly, a subtle pink rising in her cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm going to get ready for bed. In the bathroom." She jerks her thumb towards the door and I nod.</p><p> </p><p>"Okay.  I'll get in after you."</p><p> </p><p>"Okay." </p><p> </p><p>Veronica bites her lip and looks away, scurrying past me to the bathroom and locking the door behind her.</p><p> </p><p>Leaning against the corner of the kitchen wall, I shake my head. I'm not sure what she has going on in her mind right now, but I hope that when she says <em> bed, </em> she means something else may happen.  Something more.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>Veronica</b>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>I can't stop rolling around.  Waiting for Logan, my nerves are vibrating at such a high RPM that I can't stop moving around the bed.  Should I get on his side?  In the middle? Stick to my side? Laying flat on my back, staring at the ceiling, feels weirdly clinical so I roll on my side and focus on the shadows in the light coming from under the bathroom door.</p><p> </p><p>It's pitch black in the rest of the room with the lights off and the drapes drawn and when the door to the bathroom opens it nearly blinds me. I make out that he's in his sweats and a t-shirt and the sight of him clothed kind of disappoints me.</p><p> </p><p>The lights go out and his figure disappears into the darkness and even though I'm under our new thick bedding, goosebumps spring across my skin in anticipation.</p><p> </p><p>"Marco," he whispers from beside the bed.</p><p> </p><p>"Polo," I reply and scoot over to the middle, rolling to face his side.</p><p> </p><p>There's a rush of cool air as he pulls back the covers and climbs inside, trapping the warmth back in.  Raising the blanket slightly, he opens his arms and he's close enough that I can see his smile.</p><p> </p><p>"Come and join me on this side."</p><p> </p><p>Excitement flutters through me and I wiggle into his arms, placing my head on his pillow, so close that our noses nearly touch.  The scent of his peppermint toothpaste makes my nose tickle and I can't help but giggle as he wraps his arms around me and pulls my body flush with his.</p><p> </p><p>"Hi."</p><p> </p><p>"Hi."</p><p> </p><p>"Is this okay?" His hand appears from under the covers, his fingers gliding along my cheek to tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear and I shiver at the contact. </p><p> </p><p>"More than okay."</p><p> </p><p>Logan continues to stroke my hair and it feels so good I almost purr with contentment. Can I ask him to do this every night?  Will he think I'm a freak?</p><p> </p><p>"Should we return to the activities we were undertaking before we were so rudely interrupted?" </p><p> </p><p>"Yeah.  Sure."</p><p> </p><p>"Veronica...if you don't…"</p><p> </p><p>"No.  I mean yes.  Yes!  Sorry.  I was a little overly focused on how good it feels when you stroke my hair."</p><p> </p><p>"Well, that's a relief." He chuckles. "No to kissing, yes to petting your head."</p><p> </p><p>"Logan…"</p><p> </p><p>"I'm teasing, Veronica."</p><p> </p><p>"Thanks.  I can't really tell in the dark."  I close my eyes and yawn, continuing to focus on his gentle touch.</p><p> </p><p>"Can I ask you something?"</p><p> </p><p>"Hmmmm?"  is my best response.</p><p> </p><p>"Was that the first time anyone ever kissed you?"</p><p> </p><p>My eyes are open again, alert and focused on his face. I've started to adjust to the darkness and I can make out the earnestness in his features. </p><p> </p><p>"Has anyone ever kissed me? Why yes...my dad...my mom...my great aunt Sylvia to name a few.  But has anyone kissed me like you did?  No.  Definitely not."</p><p> </p><p>That jackass smirk of his crosses his face, deep lines creasing his cheeks. "Can I ask you another question then?"</p><p> </p><p>"Sure.  What is it?"</p><p> </p><p>"Do you love me? And not as a friend.  Can you say, at this moment, that you're <em> in love </em> with me?"</p><p> </p><p>My words catch in my throat as my mind twists and turns over the variables.  Do I care if Logan lives or dies?  Yes.  Am I glad he was chosen as my partner now?  Most definitely.  But do I <em> love </em> him, deep down in my heart?  The only answer I have is the most honest one.</p><p> </p><p>"I...I don't know...I mean, I've never been in love, so I can't say.  Is that bad?"</p><p> </p><p>Logan’s hand pauses before resuming its natural path along my hair and he shakes his head.</p><p> </p><p>"No.  Not at all.  I wouldn't expect you to be.  Not now. Not after only three days.  But I have another proposal, one that updates our last proposal."</p><p> </p><p>"Are you sure you weren't meant to be a lawyer?"</p><p> </p><p>"Veronica…"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes.  Fine.  What is the second article of our partnership agreement, Logan?"</p><p> </p><p>"My update is permissions for <em> more </em>."</p><p> </p><p>"Permissions for more what?"</p><p> </p><p>Logan’s hand lingers for a moment behind my head before it takes a new path, slowly dragging his fingers back across my cheek, his thumb coming to rest just below my lower lip.</p><p> </p><p>"Permission for more kissing.  Permission to kiss you good night, not on the head but on the lips.  Permission to kiss you goodbye in front of people.  Permission to randomly kiss you whenever the opportunity presents itself."</p><p> </p><p>His thumb strokes back and forth down my chin and I’m overwhelmed with the thought of taking it between my teeth the next time he passes close enough. This simple little act sends warmth radiating through my core and I close my eyes for a moment, enjoying the sensation.  </p><p> </p><p>"I like that.  A lot."</p><p> </p><p>"Good.  Because I'm thinking that maybe, if you give me permission for these things now, then maybe one day, you <em> will </em> be in love with me, and we can go further."</p><p> </p><p>"That's even better." I open my eyes, seizing my opportunity to bring myself closer to him.</p><p> </p><p>When his lips meet mine this time, my body responds with need and I press myself closer to him, tossing my leg over his hip.  As his lips part to take me deeper, his hand slips under the covers, cradling my ass and pulling my hips to his. He grows hard against me and my pulse begins to race, imagining what he may look like underneath those sweatpants. HIs tongue sweeps through my mouth and I moan into his as our tongues connect.  My heart is screaming at me to let him touch me in all manner of ways, but my brain puts a stop to it, reminding me that this is all he wants, for now. And truthfully, it’s what I want too.</p><p> </p><p>I rock back from him, my leg dropping down and he pulls his head further away, taking a deep breath as if to regain control of himself.</p><p> </p><p>"Logan? Do you love <em> me </em>?"</p><p> </p><p>His eyebrow quirks as a smile pulls across his face, obviously amused by the timing of my question.</p><p> </p><p>"Can I be honest?  And you won't get upset?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes.  What is it?"</p><p> </p><p>Pursing his lips, he stares at me for a moment, as if contemplating how to break this to me as gently as possible.</p><p> </p><p>"I've only ever had one person who has loved me in my life—my mother.  So truthfully, I don't think I even know what love is."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh."  </p><p> </p><p>My heart squeezes in my chest and I don’t know if it’s because I just learned that Logan doesn’t think his father loves him, or that he’s not madly and passionately in love with me.  But my head reminds my heart once again, that it’s only been three days since we’ve been together.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry," he whispers.</p><p> </p><p>"Don't be sorry. I'm glad you're being honest. Maybe, in time, we can figure out what love is like, together."  My hand finds his under the covers and I squeeze it tightly.</p><p> </p><p>"That sounds like a good plan."</p><p> </p><p>Leaning towards him, I plant a soft kiss on his lips, lingering for a moment to enjoy the pressure of his firm skin on mine and the glorious tingling that runs down my body.  </p><p> </p><p>Before he can take our kiss further, I pull away and roll towards the other side, taking his hand with me as I turn.  Logan responds by pushing his other arm under our pillow, shuffling closer to me so his body stretches along mine.  Closing my eyes, I let out a deep, satisfied sigh when our bodies connect and he does the same. He kisses the back of my head again and I smile at the fact that we’ve already established a little bedtime routine.</p><p> </p><p>"Permission for one more thing?" </p><p> </p><p>"What's that?"</p><p> </p><p>"Permission to let me continue to make Duncan think we're having all sorts of wild, kinky sex?" he murmurs close to my ear.</p><p> </p><p>I pause in the stillness of the room, contemplating his request. Duncan and his tantrum.  Duncan and his passive-aggressive behaviour.  Duncan tracking us down in our room.  Any thoughts that Duncan would be civil and let his jealousy drop are obviously not going to happen anytime soon.  So if he was determined to make our lives miserable…</p><p> </p><p>"Permission granted."</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/>
<p>
  <b>Logan</b>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Apparently the words ‘permission granted’ were all we needed to open the floodgates for both of us.  By the time we're making our way across campus, we've kissed five times.  The first time was a quick kiss I gave her on the back of the head while she slept, snoring gently, as I unwrapped myself from around her and slid out into the cold room for a shower.  There was the soft good-morning kiss she rewarded me with when I presented coffee to her as she came out of the bathroom from her shower.  There was the light kiss to her temple that I gave her which made her giggle as she washed out her big cobalt blue coffee mug next to me in the kitchen.  There was the lingering kiss she responded with, rising on her toes, her hands grasping my shoulders as her lips parted, her tongue sweeping past mine as a low murmur of appreciation vibrated between us.  The final one was another quick peck, this time on my cheek, as I locked the door to our room.  When I was done, she reached for my hand, her fingers threading with mine as we walked through the hallway.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I knew she was experimenting with me to some extent, seeing what small affections stuck and which ones didn't feel as natural, but I didn't mind. Lilly was my sexual experiment and I’, Veronica’s.  And if Veronica wants to experiment with me in much more innocent ways, I'm more than happy to oblige.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There's an easy silence between us as we walk across the quad towards Steinem Hall, taking note of the other students mingling around the common areas. It's just before noon and there is a peaceful buzz of energy around the campus. There's a fair number of people pushing babies in strollers and families playing in the green-spaces, and I catch Veronica smiling at a few of them as we pass along the path.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The main commissary building at the university has that post-war bunker look, all grey concrete and green aluminum shingling. It’s bleak, built when the Government was just trying to get life started again, but inside, the tall ceilings give way to natural light streaming through the skylights above, held up by solid wood timbers.  It looks as if it was built as a massive warehouse, but over the last twenty years, it’s been retrofitted with walled-in sections to give small businesses space to sell their wares.  There's a store where you could get the basics for your dorm room—sheets, comforters, wire hangers, etc—that’s run by the university. There's a drug store, a small grocery store,  and a couple of clothing stores with unisex outfits in the windows.  There is even a ‘baby supply store’ for the families on campus.  There aren’t many families in the building at this time, but that’s probably because their houses feature full kitchens and why eat the crap we can choose in the cafeteria when you can make something better at home?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piz and Duncan look up from their spot in the sea of bright green metal tables and chairs and Veronica squeezes my hand, hard, as we make our way through the tables filled with other students.  Once again, I catch Duncan’s eyes shifting from our joined hands back up to our faces as he frowns.  Can I put in a personal request to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Orwell</span>
  </em>
  <span> to get him partnered sooner than later?  Or maybe he’ll discover he and Piz are compatible and they can run off to Mexico or Canada together.  Yeah.  That one would work too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what kind of gruel is the cafeteria serving as brunch today?”  I ask as we approach, noticing they both have ordered already.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They actually have a couple of choices,” Piz offers.  “Cheese omelettes, scrambled eggs, breakfast burritos…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh!  Yes!  That!” Veronica exclaims, coming to a halt at the edge of the table.  “Do you want one too? I’ll go grab them for us since you made coffee for me this morning.  Again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I drop her hand and squeeze myself behind her, my hands resting on her hips as I move between her and the edge of the neighbouring table. I feel a full-body shiver pass over her as I pause for the briefest moment, my hips pressed to the curve of her ass and I kiss the back of her head before continuing to my seat next to Duncan.  When I look up at her, I discover a pink flush across her cheeks and I'm quite pleased with myself that I had such a physically obvious reaction from her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure.  That would be great, thank you.  Can you also grab me another coffee, please?  This day needs way more than one cup if we’re going to sit through a bunch of boring information this afternoon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can do that.  Be back in a minute.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She takes a step to leave and pauses. Then, as if pressing rewind on her actions, she comes back to the end of the table and leans down towards me, giving me a quick kiss on the lips. On her retreat, I see the twinkle in her eyes and she arches her eyebrow at me, conspiratorially. Even if I tried I wouldn’t be able to stop the giant grin which spreads across my face.  Her affection is so natural and genuine and easy that my heart tightens at my luck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Things are going well for you guys?" I glance over at Piz, his thick eyebrows frowning at me behind his floppy bangs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yep. Couldn't be happier."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That's good.  You're one of the lucky ones, then."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A smirk replaces my grin as I feel the jackass in me bubble up from its hiding place deep in my belly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I guess I am most definitely one of the lucky ones, Piz. Not every day one gets partnered with another amazing, intelligent person. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Orwell</span>
  </em>
  <span> must like me."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He snorts, balling up his hand into a fist and pressing it against his lips. "Or, maybe the fact that your parents are part of the government propaganda machine could have helped.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My second meeting with this guy and I want to deck him. Duncan must have been gossiping like a crazy old man about our lives back in Neptune since not a lot of people outside of the movie industry and certain war-hero circles even know who my parents are anymore. I wonder if it will always be this way with Duncan now?  Because frankly, I think I want to deck him too.  Instead, I choose to take a slow breath and lean towards Piz.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"If you're insinuating what I think you're insinuating, Piz, then you may want to step away right now.  We're all equal with the same opportunities as everyone else."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You don't believe some of us are </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> equal than others?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No.  No, I don't."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leaning back, I glance at Duncan sitting quietly beside me and shake my head.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>So much for best friends jumping in to help each other.</span>
  </em>
  <span> With a dismissive wave of my hand, I focus back on my new sparring partner. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"So Piz…how did you get that unfortunate moniker?  Bedwetting?  Or just too much blazing up? You know </span>
  <em>
    <span>piz</span>
  </em>
  <span> is shorthand for </span>
  <em>
    <span>weed</span>
  </em>
  <span> right?  Tell me, were you an illegal dealer or a smoker too?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Duncan elbows me and I feel like shoving him back like we're 12 years old. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It's his nickname.  Short for Stosh Piznarski."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"And I've never touched weed," Piz replies, indignantly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You should.  Maybe it would help your personality."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What the hell does that mean? You know nothing about me."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Like you know so much about me?  The fact is that I know exactly who you are…" I lower my voice and lean in even closer. "I know a shit disturber when I see it and trust me when I say this, Piz, you keep your eyes off Veronica and your lips shut about how we were partnered."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piz tosses up his hands, palms to me as he leans back in his seat. "Settle down there, Logan. Just because I don't want to be a Government stooge for the rest of my life doesn't mean I'm attacking you or Veronica."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm sorry.  Do I know you from somewhere? Because there is no way a stranger is this far up my ass without us at least going to dinner first."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Nice.  Very nice.  You're a homophobe too.  Classy."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That wasn't homophobic.  It’s just common courtesy to do a little wining and dining before we get down to business." I toss him a wink and a kiss and he scowls. Guess his bisexual metre is firmly set at 0, whereas my number is quite a bit little higher. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No, Logan.  You don't know me.  But I know your type. You come from a family who is part of the government system and just blindly follows it into whatever abyss it has planned for us."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You don't look like you're suffering, Piznarski.  In fact, I bet that you're the type of guy whose family probably benefited from universal basic income.  And since you're about to become educated and fed by that same government for the next three years, you may want to stop throwing stones that may bounce and hit you square in the face."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Is that a threat?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It's not a threat, but let's get one thing straight if you're going to be hanging out with my best friend—I don't agree with everything the government is doing, but I'm sure as shit not complaining about what they're providing to me and Veronica, especially knowing about the hardships people faced before and after the war. And if you want to pick fights with me about it every single time we meet, you better be prepared with </span>
  <em>
    <span>facts</span>
  </em>
  <span> instead of hunches."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The hum of voices all around us fills the silence at the table as we look to one another to see who will draw their metaphorical gun first.  Although right now I would kill to pull the trigger first and start a good brawl, I hold myself steady, waiting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Okay.  So I got the last burritos for us! I thought I would have to wrestle some beefy looking guy for them, but he ended up choosing the omelette instead so it was fine.  Oh, and I got us some hash browns too because I don't know about you, but I am starving." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica's chipper voice cracks the silent stalemate and I exhale.  She places the tray with our food in front of me and plops herself down in the seat next to Piz, completely oblivious to what has just taken place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Thanks. I appreciate that you would go to such lengths for me."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She reaches over and places my shiny paper-wrapped breakfast burrito in front of me, her eyes twinkling once again with Veronica delight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Always."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And just like that, my chest muscles constrict so hard it feels like a heart attack.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Damn it, why did she have to be so fucking nice to me all the time?  I'm not used to this much kindness on a daily basis. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Are...are you okay?" Her hand falls to mine as she leans forward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Sorry." Banging my chest with my fist, I loudly clear my throat.  "Heartburn. Too much coffee this morning and not enough food."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well then, eat.  We have about half an hour before we need to make our way to the gymnasium for the orientation." She starts unwrapping her burrito, flattening the tin foil wrapping neatly underneath. "So did you grab your textbooks yet, Duncan?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah.  The line at the Book Depository was pretty crazy but I managed to get a textbook that wasn't too badly marked up."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"We still need to do that tonight.  We were both catching up on our sleep after coming in so early Saturday morning. There was no way I would have lasted standing in a line for textbooks this morning."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica raises the burrito to her lips and takes a huge bite of her breakfast. Her eyes roll back slightly as she chews and I realize that watching how much she enjoys </span>
  <em>
    <span>food</span>
  </em>
  <span> is a sight I may never get tired of.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wiping her lips with a paper napkin, she swallows, sighing with contentment before speaking again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"On the bright side, they're free.  So what if they're recycled from year to year.  Lilly once told me that back before the war, textbooks were almost $200 each.  Isn't that crazy?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yes, but the content was written by scholars.  Now it's content written by the government," Duncan interjects.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No it's not," Veronica snaps, the burrito hovering in front of her lips. "It's scholars paid by the government to produce books.  There's a difference."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You're so naive, Veronica," Duncan tosses back and that's when I see Veronica's eyes flicker and change to flames with the kind of intensity reserved for those who challenged her in class. But Duncan misses it and keeps on hopelessly babbling. "They're paid to feed us more propaganda.  Piz showed me some interesting research he's been doing for some articles and…"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Stop talking." Veronica drops her burrito back on the tinfoil and leans in. "Just stop talking, Duncan, before you get yourself into trouble."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And there it finally was.  There was that passion...that spark I would see in Veronica when we were debating.  This is the first time I've really seen it in practice outside of school and watching her about to take a strip off of Duncan is rather intoxicating.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"But Veronica…"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Look Duncan, we all agree that the system is not perfect but I refuse to believe it's as nefarious as you make it out to be.  Your own sister has told countless stories from her research into what life was like before the war.  People were just indentured servants to the corporations.  There was racism and hate causing chaos and riots. The New Democracy changed all of that and provided peace and order and stability for everyone by dismantling the old system and giving us a new one based on equality and justice for all. And yes, it may not be perfect, but it's better than where we've been."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"We have no choice!" Duncan slams his fist down on the table, his face suddenly flushes with rage. "We have no choice in our lives anymore and you're living proof of that, Veronica. You've been forced to partner with someone you barely know and take a career path at a college not of your choosing. They make it seem like you have choices, but really, now you're just an indentured servant to the government too."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Glancing around, I realize the tables around us have gone quiet as they listen to Duncan.  This is bad.  Really bad.  Because if he's seen as a subversive to the system and someone calls a Campus Advisor, Duncan’s life and career could be over before it even starts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Duncan, you need to settle down." I place my hand on his shoulder and he tenses, shrugging me away. "I know you don't really feel this way.  We've talked about this for years and I know you want to help people. This is how you can. Go to school, become a lawyer, then work the system to help those people. Like you always planned."  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Duncan's face begins to turn back to a normal shade of pasty white and I breathe a sigh of relief. No matter how naive I may think Veronica is, Duncan has always been so much worse.  His parents coddled him like a newborn—probably up until the moment he left for college a few days ago.  The only one who ever set him straight about anything was Lilly and with her gone for over a year now, I know he's been listening to the rambling of his domineering mother a bit too much. He confided once that his mother coached him before he answered his profile questions for </span>
  <em>
    <span>Orwell</span>
  </em>
  <span>—like studying for a test. Except it seemed that with Celeste's help, her baby boy may have failed miserably. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, this was fun." Piz stands, placing his palms on the table to lean in over us. "I'm going to head over early and get a good seat.  You coming, Duncan?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Choices, Duncan.  It's all about choices, dude.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unfortunately, the words stay in my head and I watch Duncan rise. "Yeah.  Let's go.  See you later, Veronica.  Logan."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two shuffle off into the bustling centre and Veronica and I are left alone. For a time, we both continue to eat in silence.  When she's done with her breakfast, she leans back in her chair with her coffee and shakes her head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I can't believe he's still acting this way."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Balling up the tin foil wrapper, I toss it on the tray and watch it roll towards her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I can. Honestly, Veronica, I'm starting to think that Duncan's vision of what his life would be like started with being partnered with you. And now that it isn't happening, he's having problems recalibrating his brain."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"This Piz guy seems to be an influence."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"In the absence of his parents, Duncan needs someone to tell him what to do. I guess Piz is going to fill that gap. The fact that he's saying he has no choices or freedom is laughable considering how tightly his family influenced his every choice in life so far."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica bites her lip, rocking slightly as she thinks. Leaning forward, she reaches out and I take her hand across the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm worried about him, Logan.  He's acting like a jerk, but he's still our friend."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I know, Veronica. But maybe we need to just give him some time and space to figure it out for himself."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stroking the back of her hand with my thumb, I focus on the soft tan of her skin next to mine. Our California skin will start to fade.  Hopefully so will Duncan's resentment.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <b>Veronica</b>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>"Whatcha looking at?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From his spot across from me, Logan moves his head in close to mine and grins, batting his eyelashes at me which makes me giggle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Everyone.  I'm looking at everyone."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From the middle of the aluminum gymnasium stands in F.G. Joyner Pavillion, we have a pretty clear view of all the first-year students streaming into the space. They're all around the same age as us, give or take a few months, as post-secondary education is mandatory.  The joke back at our old school was that this was 13th grade, just with more work and better cafeteria food.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I've been quietly enjoying people watching since we sat down, while Logan flipped through the new student handbook we were given when we entered.  There were the obviously single people, coming in by themselves or in small groups, talking as they found seating.  Then there were the partnered—two or sometimes three people—some holding hands, some not.  I noticed a few pregnant women, their hands resting on their baby bumps. But what was really fascinating to me was their expressions. For many, there were smiles and bright looks of enthusiasm as they shared conversations between parties, holding hands while they walked.  For others, there was silence, a look of neutral detachment to those they shuffled in with.  This morning, when I got out of the shower, I could hear our next door neighbours arguing through the wall, and I tried to push the sound of their bickering aside.  After hearing so many arguments between my parents as a child, I should be able to ignore such things, but it still brought up thoughts of being awakened from my sleep by the sound of their yelling in the middle of the night. And then I opened the door to find Logan, leaning against the kitchen counter with a big cup of coffee in his hand and a giant grin on his face, and when he handed it to me I couldn't help but give him a small kiss in thanks, not just for the coffee, but for distracting me from my memories.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the crowd, I spot Wallace and Jackie walking together.  She's engrossed in a conversation with two girls walking near them.  My heart sinks a bit when I see she's not holding Wallace's hand, but I comfort myself with the idea that it could be because the other two are distracting her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wallace!”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan stands and waves and I see Wallace catch his eye and wave back. He nudges Jackie and points up at us and I wave and smile, hoping they come and join us.  She replies with a smile and a nod then points us out to the other women and they look up and wave back.  I wonder if the two women are a couple, but can’t get any physical cues from their behaviour—no hand-holding, no touching, no visibly strong connection.   The girl closest to Jackie is tall with a willowy figure, long sandy blond hair, and sun-kissed skin that makes her look like she’s from the West Coast as well.  She’s in tight black capri pants, beaded sandals, and a beautiful embroidered white blouse that gives her a somewhat ethereal look as she walks towards us. The other girl is slightly shorter with cropped short hair streaked purple and blue which is a stark contrast to her peachy complexion.  She’s in a t-shirt, hoodie, and jeans and she bounds slightly ahead of Jackie when they reach the bleacher steps to walk next to Wallace towards us.  The entire party stops at the end of the aisle and Wallace waves his hand towards the empty row in front of us.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey guys! Let’s sit here so we can talk,” he says, ushering the women past him.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The blond goes first, ending up sitting in front of Logan and she grins up at him, offering her hand.  “Hi!  I’m Parker!  Parker Lee.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan shakes her hand and smiles.  “I’m Logan. Logan Echolls.  And this is my partner, Veronica Mars.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Parker’s already wide grin increases as she reaches for my hand next.  “Oh my God!  That’s great.  Congratulations.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I shake her hand and smile from her to the other woman who has now sat beside her. “Thank you.  Are you guys…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” The girl with the colourful hair throws up her hands and shakes her head.  “No, we’re just roommates in the single dorms.  I’m Cindy Mackenzie, but everyone calls me Mac.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m sorry.  I kind of just assumed.” Heat rises in my cheeks and Logan drops his hand to my knee, a small reassurance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s okay,” Parker laughs, waving her hand dismissively.  “We’ll probably get that a lot.  I rejected my match, so I’ll probably end up hanging out with everyone a lot just for the company.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You did?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.  I’m bisexual and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Orwell</span>
  </em>
  <span> placed me with a man I felt I had no connection to, so I rejected the match.  But because I’m bi, it’ll try and place me one more time, but with a woman.  Eventually.  So for now, I just have to wait.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.  Wow.” It is the best response my brain can come up with.  Even though I knew that our sexual preferences were taken into consideration and that there were small opportunities for 'do-overs', I’m always still a little shocked when I hear of it happening.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I’m ace—asexual,” Mac interjects, raising her hand.  “I chose not to get matched. I mean, I could have still chosen to get partnered, but I really didn't want a relationship—platonic or romantic.  Just not my jam.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So at least we can be alone...together…” Parker giggles.  “Which is nice because Mac is the coolest and has promised to help me put bright pink streaks in my hair tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mac and Wallace went to school together,” Jackie adds. “And Parker is in the business program with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m in the technology program," Mac continues, glancing down the row at everyone. “Just me and hopefully, someday </span>
  <em>
    <span>Orwell</span>
  </em>
  <span> and some of the other systems they're developing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You want to work with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Orwell</span>
  </em>
  <span>?  That’s pretty cool.” Logan squeezes my knee and I drop my hand to cover his.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I want to work for the government to get our national communications systems working well.  I’ve was doing a lot of research in high school about the history of technological developments leading up to the war and I really think that with the proper tools in place, we can revive some of the old communications systems to bring us back on track with the rest of the world.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My best friend, Lilly, is an anthropologist focusing on pre-war ‘America.’  It’s quite fascinating, especially considering so much of the world operated on data that was lost forever when the systems shut down.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mac’s eyes light up like I offered her all-you-can-eat ice cream.  I just met her but already I like her based on this reaction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes!  It’s so interesting.  Most of our research is coming from data from other countries that didn’t shut down their data systems completely, so it’s ‘their’ record of how they view us, not our own, and it's often unflattering. What always surprised me though is that they had all this knowledge and power and they used it for such mundane things.  Like, they could have built super-computers to run simulations and calculations to cure diseases and illnesses, but instead, they used it to make videos of their cats and post them for everyone to see.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A ripple of laughter runs through our small group and I shrug. “I prefer dogs.  Any way you can make it so we can have both?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mac tosses me a wink.  “I’ll do my best.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When I become a politician I’ll make sure to draft laws that include funny animal videos as an essential part of our national structure.” Logan leans over and kisses my temple, sending a wave of happiness through me. “Just for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Awwwww….” Parker sighs, her hands clasping her heart.  “See.  I want that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan and I exchange a look of confusion. “Want what?  More cat videos?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This!” She scoffs and waves her hand between us.  “What you guys obviously have.  How long have you been together?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I wrinkle my nose.  “Um...four days?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”  The gasp rises from everyone and I feel like I’ve said something wrong.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But we were friends before this,” Logan interjects.  “We’ve actually known each other since we were 12 years old.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Glancing at Jackie and Wallace, I notice her fidget in her seat, her eyes cast low.  Without a word, Wallace’s hand comes around her shoulders as she continues to look away and suddenly, I feel bad about having a connection to Logan from the start.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You guys are so lucky.  The guy I was partnered with—Mercer—was in my high school in Denver.  He was that kind of guy that looked nice on the outside, but totally gave me the creeps whenever we were in classes together.  That’s why I rejected him...my gut just told me no.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you, Parker. Maybe the next match will be better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks.  I’m kind of hoping it does too.  If not, I’ll be spending a lot more time with Mac.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey!”  Mac calls out.  “I’m delightful.  You should be happy we’re roommates.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Parker leans over and wraps her arm around Mac’s shoulder, giving her a quick squeeze.  “I know you are, Mac!  We’ve only been friends for 72 hours but I love you already!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mac laughs and we all join in, even Jackie, who turns her head back to the group.  Wallace kisses her temple and she gives him a soft smile in response, closing her eyes as he gives her shoulder a squeeze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right now, it's hard to believe we are all still just starting out in our lives.  Parker and Mac seem so sure of themselves.  Wallace and Jackie seem to be managing, in their own particular way. And even Logan and I are trying to find what works for us in this time of transition.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"If everyone could please find a seat, we're about to begin."</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean O'Dell stands tall at the microphone in the centre of the gymnasium floor and adjusts his spectacles on his nose, staring into the stands.  In the time we've been talking, tables have appeared behind him, each with signs—Stipend Cards, Student Expense Forms, Medical Cards—and staff sitting on chairs behind them, smiling back at us.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Glancing around at the full stands, I sigh, wiggling on the hard bench.  According to the handbook, there’s going to be lecturing, by Dean O'Dell and others, and then, we’ll line up for all of our university bureaucratic supplies.  If my already numb butt is any indication, this is definitely going to be a long and painful afternoon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><hr/><p>
  <b>Logan</b>
</p><hr/><p>“Veronica…”</p><p>“Shhhhhh.  I’m almost done.”</p><p>Flopping down on the bed, I watch her hunch closer to the computer screen, her head moving ever so slightly as she mutters, frantically pounding on the keys to the keyboard.  The fact that she talks out loud to herself as she works was a bit of an annoying surprise earlier in the week, but a quick trip to the commissary for a set of headphones, so I could listen to music while I studied next to her, solved that minor problem pretty quickly. I also found out that she chews the tops of her pens and pencils while she studies so we had to designate some of our allotted supplies as “hers” (with chew marks) and “his” (all the ones without) with teasing of possible restitution in the form of kisses, should she wander over to my desk and steal a fresh one to chew. </p><p>The one habit I cannot abide or joke around is the fact that she’s a book murderer.  When she dog-eared the corner of her book before bed on Monday night, I gasped in horror that I could be paired with such a person while she just rolled her eyes at me.  Now I can’t help but fixate on all the bent corners in the books stacked on her desk, and I desperately want to open each page, fold the corners back, and flag them with Post-It Notes as the universe intended.</p><p>“We’re going to be late.”</p><p>She swivels in her chair and frowns. “We won’t be late if you don’t keep interrupting me.  This is due tomorrow, and I don’t want to be up all night working on it.”</p><p>“You need to edit it anyway.  Why don’t you just finish then? I mean, you still have to get dressed.”</p><p>Veronica glances down at her jeans and a bright green t-shirt, the V between her eyebrows deepening. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing now?  It’s just Wallace and Jackie, not Dean O’Dell’s we’re going to for dinner.”</p><p>Running my hand over my brown dress shirt, I graze a piece of lint and I pick it off, tossing it on the floor. “This is our first couples thing.  I thought it would be nice to dress up, that’s all I’m saying.”</p><p>“Logan, up until about two hours ago when I showered, I was still in yoga pants and your hoodie.  This <em> is </em>dressed up.” She turns her back to me again with a dismissive wave. “Now stop talking and let me finish this paragraph, then we can go.”</p><p>I push my tongue against the inside of my cheek to try and stifle my grin. On Wednesday, I came home from a late class to find her sitting cross-legged on her chair at her desk, typing away at an assignment, the hood of my baggie grey Neptune Pirates hoodie pulled over her head.  She said she had been cold, and since I had dropped it on the floor on my side of the bed near our desks, she just scooped it up and put it on for warmth.  And she looked so damn cute in the massive blanket of grey fabric that I didn’t have the heart to take it back.  Which maybe I should have because now she seems to have confiscated it as “hers” permanently.</p><p>Throughout this week, I’ve tried to be on my best behaviour and not do anything too overtly annoying, but I can see my little quirks may be getting to her also. She does this thing where she goes silent and just gives me this <em> look </em>…like I kicked her dog or something.  That was definitely the feeling I got when she found my wet towel tossed onto our bed when we got back from classes on Thursday. Which didn’t help the fact that I left the toilet seat up that morning, and she felt the need to point it out to me too?</p><p>“There!” She proclaims as she turns off the monitor screen.  “Done!  For now, anyway.”</p><p>The chair rolls back as she stands and walks over to her dresser.  Opening the middle drawer, she pulls out a green and pink striped fitted hoodie and pulls it on, zipping it up partway.  “See. All ready to go.”</p><p>Standing, I smooth my jeans, and she comes over to meet me.  When I straighten, she rises on her tip-toes and gives me a quick peck on my lips, her arms draping around my neck. Veronica’s already figured out that a kiss and some affection goes a long way to smooth any minor annoyance I may have, and I’m not complaining when I wrap my arms around her waist as she grins at me.</p><p>“I hope tonight will be fun.  Think they’ll play board games?  Maybe Twister?  Ohhhhh…or poker? We haven't played poker since Lilly left for college.”</p><p>When I kiss her on the nose, she wrinkles it and giggles as I pull her closer. “I’m sure it will be a fun night.  Wallace is a really decent guy, and the way he talks about Jackie, I think it’ll be a good evening.”</p><p>“Oh?  How does he talk about her?”</p><p>“Same way I talk about you.  Like we’re two lunk-heads who can’t believe their luck to be paired with such amazing women.”</p><p>Veronica’s tongue darts across her lips, and her eyes sparkle with delight. Her nose brushes mine, playfully, as she hovers close to me.</p><p>“Flattery will <em> eventually </em> get you everywhere.”</p><p>“I sure as hell am hoping…”</p><p>She cuts off my words as her lips finally press against mine, lingering, as if waiting for me. When I part my lips, her tongue immediately sweeps through to find mine.  My hand wanders up to her back, and my palm spreads across, pressing her chest to mine, feeling her heartbeat firm against my ribs. Her breath hitches, but neither of us makes a move to part as warmth spreads over my body.  She nips at my lower lip, and I moan. That little shot of pain at just the right moment triggers every endorphin in my body, and I find myself once again suppressing the urge to lead her into bed.</p><p>Instead, I pull away from her, and she groans, a pout passing on her red, swollen lips.  It’s a look I’m getting used to seeing after this week, and it brings me no end of joy to see her disappointment that we’ve lost that connection, for now.</p><p>“We’re going to be very late if we keep this up.”</p><p>“Logan, we can see their house from our window.” She lets go of me to gesture towards the window on her side of the bed, and I chuckle, taking my opportunity to step out of her grasp.</p><p>“Maybe so, but unless you’re suggesting we jump from said window, we still need to walk there.” I give her a quick peck on the forehead, and she scowls as I step around her towards our closet.</p><p>The sliding doors squeak when I push them aside and grab my jacket and then Veronica's.  She squeezes past me and grabs her black and white sneakers, heading back to the bed to sit on the edge and put them on.  I get mine and bee-line to one of the dinette chair to sit down.  With the kitchenette on the other side of it, we realized that our entryway is so narrow there was no way two people can do anything in it. When she rises, I grab her jacket and offer it to her with a smile, and she returns my smile and steps closer, turning around and pausing as I hold it open for her to slip into, always the right arm first, then the left. I pull the collar to her neck and kiss her cheek, watching a pink tinge rise on her skin.</p><p>"Thank you," she whispers and steps away to fetch her purse.</p><p>I did this on Monday as we hurried to get out the door for our first class. It's reminiscent of something I once saw on set in a movie my parents were making, and even at a young age, it made an impression.  Now, in real life, I've adapted it for us as part of our routine together, and I can't get over how natural it feels.</p><p>"Ready to be dazzling?" she asks, grabbing her keys off her dresser.</p><p>"Always," I reply with a wink.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <b>Veronica</b>
</p><hr/><p>"That was amazing. You guys are so lucky to have a real kitchen," I state as I waddle into the living room, happily stuffed with roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and three-bean salad. “My compliments, Chef Fennel.”</p><p>Wallace claps his hands together and rubs them quickly together.  “Just wait until you taste my apple pie later.”</p><p>Jackie sits at the corner of the loveseat and laughs, gesturing for me to join her, and for a second, I pause, glancing at Logan, a tickle of sadness in my belly that he was being led to a folding chair across the coffee table from me.  During dinner, Logan reached under the small table and rested his hand on my knee, and my heart began to race. Throughout the conversation about all of our classes, I found myself distracted by this simple touch.  In the past week, I realized how much he enjoyed touching me—how his hand would find mine when we were walking, or he would linger just long enough when he handed me my coffee in the morning.  My favourite, though, was how his large hand would find the small of my back when we would kiss and spread wide to press my hips towards his.  When he did this, I wanted to forget all about going to classes or homework and just stay lip-locked with him for hours.</p><p>“I am pretty lucky that Wallace is a good cook,” Jackie smiles, first at me and then to Wallace. “My course load was insanity this week, and if he wasn’t presenting me with food, I probably would have starved.”</p><p>Wallace blows her a kiss and a wink.  “Gotta keep yours and baby’s strength up.  This is just the start of the race. We have another six months before the finish line.”  Shooting finger guns at Logan, he chuckles.  “Another beer?”</p><p>“Sure.  That’d be great.  Thanks, Wallace.”</p><p>Wallace turns his fingers to me and grins.  “Another glass of wine, Veronica?”</p><p>“No, but thank you, Wallace.  When we get home tonight, I still have the assignment to edit.  Another glass of wine may not help with that process.”</p><p>“Or it could help a lot.” Jackie laughs.  “I know how you feel, though.  I have two chapters from my design class that I have to read before bed tonight.”</p><p>“I love how you arranged your desks in your bedroom, Jackie.  I never even thought to move ours from where they were placed.” I shake my head and shrug. “The difference between someone getting advice from a magazine and someone who is in a design program.”</p><p>“Thank you. The house isn’t big, and it’s kind of narrow because of the shipping containers, but we’re making it work.”</p><p>“Well, I love what you did with the baby’s room. Even though it’s small, it feels warm and cozy with the colours you chose.”  I’m only slightly jealous that Jackie managed to pull off the <em> contemporary </em>feeling I was going for in subdued hues of browns and beige for the baby’s room,  The tiny room had a beautiful white crib, rocking chair, and dresser while the walls and accents were all different shades of brown, which somehow worked even if they were a mishmash of things they found at the department store.  On the wall, she had painted a grey elephant, monkey, and giraffe that I was in awe of.</p><p>“Thanks. I actually was hoping that <em> Orwell </em> would have placed me in the visual arts, but since that didn’t happen, I’m content with the fashion design program instead.” She shrugs, her eyes looking towards the ground.  “Artists are chosen few and far between anyway, and with the regulations on what can and cannot be produced, I would probably end up just painting the same landscape over and over again.”</p><p>“I’m sorry that you didn’t get placed in your dream career.” I’m hesitant in my words, choosing carefully as I go. “But you have such an amazing eye for detail that I’m sure it will translate to design. What you’ve done with your bedroom and the baby’s room and every other room, in fact, is just incredible.”</p><p>Jackie raises her head and her smile seems a little forced.  “Thank you.  I’m glad you like what I did with this recycled shack.”</p><p>“It may not be huge, but your place is definitely bigger than our little room. You guys should come over and stick your head in and see it. It will take all of three seconds to show you around,” Logan offers with a chuckle.</p><p>Returning from the kitchen, Wallace hands Logan his beer and slaps him on the shoulders. “It’s not the size of the home that matters, it’s what you do with it.”</p><p>We all laugh as Wallace sits in the chair near Logan’s and takes a quick sip of his beer.</p><p>“Well, I’m still jealous of your queen-sized bed,” Logan states, taking a quick sip of his beer as well. “My six foot body is crammed into a double bed with Veronica. Most of the time, my feet are dangling off the edge halfway through the night.”</p><p>“We make it work, though,” I state.</p><p>“Yeah.  We do.” For a second, Logan’s eyes lock with mine, sending shivers down my back.  The best part of my day is now crawling into bed and laying in his arms.  By the way his eyes light up as he stares back at me, I feel like it could be his too.</p><p>“We might as well be in a double bed since Wallace likes to sleep spread-eagle and take up most of the room,” Jackie tosses out, a wry grin on her face.</p><p>Wallace just shakes his head and laughs, his palm covering part of his face. “Are we really going there? Because I will bring up the ten-thousand bottles of makeup stuff that I now have to deal with in the bathroom.”</p><p>“I’m sorry I had to.” Jackie laughs.  “I mean, come on, let’s all be honest, figuring out how to live together is not always easy.  Am I right?”</p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about—” Logan takes a sip of his beer, a gleam of jackass in his eyes.  “Veronica is delightful, as am I.  We’ve had no problems adjusting whatsoever.”</p><p>I can’t help the snort of laughter that escapes me, and everyone joins in, laughing. “You’re right, dear,” I drawl, batting my eyelashes.  “You leave toast crumbs on the counter, and I clean them up because they’re disgusting.  It works so well.”</p><p>Logan presses his palm to his chest and gasps in mock indignation, and another wave of laughter rises from all of us.</p><p>“I swear, if we have a boy and I spend my entire life putting the toilet seat down, I’ll be pissed,” Jackie adds, and I clap my hands together, giggling.</p><p>“Yes!  Oh my God, yes.”</p><p>“Hey!  If this was a true 50/50 partnership, you would both put the seat up for us after you’re done,” Wallace shoots back.</p><p>“That made no sense when you tried to use it with me the first time, Wallace, and it makes no sense now.” Jackie wags her finger at him. “Veronica agrees with me.  Put the damn seat down.”</p><p>“I do agree.” Waving my hand at Logan, I wink. “Same goes for you.”</p><p>“Fine.  I’ll do that if you stop eating in bed.  You complain about my toast crumbs, yet I find chip bits in the sheets.”</p><p>I gasp as if Logan revealed one of my most intimate secrets, and I see in the way he narrows his gaze that he knows he’s got me.  Just like in Debate Club.  But unlike the Debate Club, there are no rules.</p><p>“Yes, well, you talk in your sleep,” I shoot back.  “All I hear in the middle of the night is mutter, mutter, mutter.”</p><p>Logan’s face scrunches up, completely incredulous about what I’m saying. “No, I don’t.”</p><p>“Yes.  You do.  And it’s been waking me up.”</p><p>“I…” His mouth drops open, his eyes wide for a split second as if he remembers something but then shakes his head, avoiding my gaze. “I’ll try to shut up.” He brings his beer to his lips and takes a deep, long swig, downing almost the whole thing in one gulp, and I watch as red tinges his cheeks.</p><p>
  <em> I’ve said too much. </em>
</p><p>Something is going on, inside Logan’s head, because when he’s done taking a drink, he avoids my eyes like a child, trapped with his hand in the cookie jar.</p><p>“You have anything stronger than this?” he asks, leaning towards Wallace.</p><p>“Uh, yeah.  I have some tequila that Jackie’s dad gave me as a gift when we had our union ceremony.  It’s delicious.”  Wallace stands, catching Jackie’s eye for a split second and nodding as if communicating by telepathy.  She nods back, and he smiles at Logan.  “Come on, let’s go sit on the back deck and give the ladies a chance to complain about us.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Logan mutters.  “Let’s go.”</p><p>They stand, and I'm at a loss as to what to say. My stomach turns as guilt seizes my thoughts. What did I mention that was so bad? I mean, it was something that, in hindsight, was <em> really </em> personal, but why should it bother him?  Unless his mutterings were about something or <em> someone </em> he doesn't want me to know about…</p><p>"I'm glad they left," Jackie says and puts her hand on my arm with a smile. "Now, we can have some girl time to chat."</p><p>My mind is still racing when Jackie turns her attention to me, and I force a smile, hoping she thinks I'm as enthusiastic as I am pretending to be, all the while, my brain is trying to figure out why Logan reacted the way he did.</p><p>"Yeah. Girl time would be great."</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <b>Logan</b>
</p><hr/><p>Wallace gives me a one-armed hug at the door, and I am sure I'm entirely fucked because holy shit, the steps to the house seem to move as I try and walk down. Veronica grabs my arm to help.</p><p>"Easy cowboy."</p><p>She wraps her arms around mine and guides me down as she says goodbye. It was around the fourth tequila that Jackie came and broke up Wallace and my little party to have apple pie, and it's a good thing, or I would have been sleeping in the baby crib tonight.</p><p>"Well…" I pull myself upright. <em> Try not to be so drunk, Echolls </em>. "That was fun."</p><p>She makes this cute little snort noise, and oh my God, she's so adorable rolling those beautiful blue eyes at me, I can barely stand it.</p><p>"Sure. Fun."</p><p>"What?  I thought you liked Jackie?"</p><p>"I do! She and I had a great time. I mean, not as good as you and Wallace did, but…"</p><p>We continue on the path to the dorm, and the street lamps cast eerie shadows in the darkness.</p><p>"So, what is it then?"</p><p>"You ditched me."</p><p>"I <em> ditched </em>you?"</p><p>"Yes. You ditched me.  To get drunk."</p><p><em> See. She doesn't want a loser like you </em>.  The voice in my head sounds like Aaron. It's the same voice I've been hearing every night and dreaming about when I finally fall asleep. The voice I just tried to drown with tequila.</p><p>"I...I was just being sociable."</p><p>"Pft. Yeah. Right."</p><p>She's practically dragging me down the path now as we approach the dorm.</p><p>"Hey, you're the one who was mad about me telling them you're a slob."</p><p>"For one, I was not mad.  And second, I am <em> not </em> a slob," she hisses. "You're the slob who leaves things everywhere."</p><p>"Oh, like you're perfect." My lips are moving, and I know I should just shut up, but for some reason, my mouth isn't responding with anything other than shit. "Or is that what you want people to think? That you're perfect?"</p><p>We come to a screeching halt, and I almost fall backwards thanks to inertia as she anchors me to the spot.</p><p>"No, Logan.  I don't want people to think I'm perfect. But I would appreciate it if my partner didn't ditch me to get drunk the first time we go out on a double date."</p><p>"Look, Wallace offered it to me, and I accepted."</p><p>"No.  You asked Wallace for the <em> hard stuff </em>.  And then you left me for a bottle of booze just like…"</p><p>Her eyes go wide, and for a second, I think she's going to burst into tears, but instead, her wide-eyed shock turns to anger as she narrows her gaze.</p><p>"Does your talking in your sleep have to do with Lilly?"</p><p>"No!" I pull my arm from her grasp and step back. "That's not it at all."</p><p>"Then what is it?  Why did you run off when I told them about taking in your sleep?"</p><p>"I...I…" Stepping back on the path, my stomach turns.</p><p>
  <em> You're nothing. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She's going to find out and leave you. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She'll never fall in love with you. </em>
</p><p>Aaron's voice vibrates in my head, and suddenly the taste of bile is in my mouth, and I turn and run for the bushes, dropping to my knees to empty the contents of my belly onto the ground. Involuntary contractions shake my body as I try and fight to stop myself. A hand comes down on my back, and I flinch, but she holds steady.</p><p>"It's okay. Just let it out."</p><p>I heave again, and nothing comes out but tears. Why the fuck did she have to be so kind to me? I can't take it. Her hand is moving in circles on top of my jacket, and I hunch, hiding my face in the darkness from her. Squeezing my eyes shut, I will my tears to stop, as I've done all the times that I've been on my knees, Aaron's belt lashing against me.</p><p>"I'm okay." The words come out in a monotone, and there's no way she can believe me.</p><p>"Let's get you home." I lurch when her hand sweeps my forehead, pushing my hair back. "It's okay. I've got you."</p><p>When she tugs at my arm, I rise in reflex. It's cold outside, but I'm sweating, and my feet seem to be moving independent of my legs, and as we walk down the path and into the building, it seems as though I'm a balloon on a string that she's pulling.</p><p>"Almost there…" she murmurs as we climb the stairs, ignoring the other students in the hall.</p><p>I stagger the rest of the way, and Veronica leans me up against the wall while she fishes her keys from her purse. When she finds them, she tosses me this pitying glance that I hope I never see again because it makes me feel even smaller than I do right now.</p><p><em> Pathetic </em>.</p><p>The door clicks, and she pulls at my jacket sleeve. "Come on."</p><p>I obediently follow her inside until she stops to take off her jacket and toss it across the back of the chair. She spins her finger around in the air, and my eyes follow it.</p><p>"Turn around.  Let me take your jacket."</p><p>
  <em> Do as you're told. </em>
</p><p>Turning, I close my eyes against the spinning room and unzip my jacket.  She peels it off of me and drops it somewhere. I hear her walk away, and I open my eyes to see her rifling through my drawers. She pulls out a fresh t-shirt and sweats and stands by the door of the bathroom.</p><p>"Brush your teeth. Get dressed and get into bed.  I have to edit my assignment. I'll join you when I'm done."</p><p>The sadness and disappointment in her voice is gutting. Fuck, I'm glad that I can hide from her right now.  My feet still aren't working, and I stagger towards her, taking the clothes, avoiding her stare.</p><p>"Thanks."</p><p>And with that, she just walks away, leaving me to wallow in my own stupidity behind the bathroom door.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <b>Veronica</b>
</p><hr/><p>I sit on my hand to make it stop shaking. Usually, it was my dad who took care of the drunk, not me. Which is why I put the garbage pail on Logan's side of the bed before I sat down at my computer.  I've learned from the best. At least my desk isn't right beside his side table—that one is his—so I'm able to ignore him when the bathroom door opens.</p><p>The bed frame creaks as he crawls onto the mattress from my side, probably avoiding passing too close to me, and I involuntarily tense. I keep pretending to read my essay, but I can see him in the reflection from my computer screen as he lays on top of the duvet and pulls the old cover over his body from the foot of the bed. He's noticed the bucket, and he rolls to the edge, facing away from my side and a twinge of sadness pricks at my heart. There won't be any cuddling tonight—no goodnight kiss.</p><p>"Thank you," he mutters.</p><p>"Don't barf on the duvet."</p><p>"...try not to."</p><p>I turn to find his eyes closed, his breathing is heavy already. I want to say good night, but I can't bring myself to do it. It was one thing when we all got together as teens, and he partied and drank. It's quite another now that we're adults.</p><p>Adults.</p><p>I suppress a snort. Legally we're adults, but I still feel like a kid. Or a bird. I feel like some stupid bird, just kicked out of the nest, who has to bump her head on some branches before she figures out how flying works.</p><p>The words of my essay blend together in a fuzzy clump, and I blink rapidly, trying to focus my brain on the task at hand. Forget about drunk Logan. Forget about whether my mother is back at home, doing the same thing tonight.  Forget it all because right now, I need to concentrate on not failing my first assignment.</p><p>Increasing the size of the words on my screen, I'm able to keep my mind on my work, tuning out the sound of Logan's breathing behind me. In time, I work my way through my essay once, then twice, making changes until I'm happy with the product and print it.  As I wait for the pages, I swivel around to check on Logan as he sleeps.</p><p>Stand and stretch.  Glance at the clock.  It's just after midnight, and I exhale loudly, grateful I'll get some sleep before class tomorrow.</p><p>"Hakshwnwjt."</p><p>Logan's gibberish begins again, and I shake my head.</p><p>"Or maybe no sleep."</p><p>"Mwushsd…" His body twitches, and I shake my head, walking around the bed to sit on my side.</p><p>When I reach out and touch his back, he twitches again.</p><p>"Stop! Stop!"</p><p>My hand snaps back at his yelp as I watch him twist under the blankets.</p><p>"Logan…"</p><p>"Nononononononononononono…"</p><p>I push myself closer, my hand sweeping across his forehead, wet with sweat.</p><p>"Shhhhh. Logan, you're having a nightmare. Wake up."</p><p>His eyes are still closed as his body rocks back and forth.</p><p>"Can't. Can't…."</p><p>Panic shakes me.  What if I can't wake him up?  What if he starts screaming? No one ever taught me what the hell to do when your partner goes crazy.</p><p>I lay down behind him, pressing myself to him as he vibrates in my arms. My head is on his pillow near his ear, my arm slung around his body, holding him close.</p><p>"Shhhhhh. It's Veronica, Logan. Listen to the sound of my voice. You're okay. You're safe."</p><p>"Ver...onica...onica."</p><p>"Yes. It's me. Please wake up.  Please."</p><p>My voice is strained as I fight my own panic to try and end his.</p><p>"Okay….okay…"</p><p>Logan's words drift off, and his muscles relax against me, his breathing slowing back down. He's fallen back to sleep.  Or passed out.  Either way, it's for the best.  As I hold him close, my mind races, replaying his words over and over again.  Whatever triggered this nightmare must have been significant.  Really big. Because whenever we've been together before, as friends, he's always exuded nothing but confidence.</p><p>But now I'm seeing his jackass behaviour in school in a new light. Maybe it was all an act of bravado. Maybe there's something behind the actions, something that he’s hiding.</p><p>Maybe I'm wrong about the person I partnered with, and I really don't know anything about him at all.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <strong>Veronica</strong>
</p><hr/><p>“I’m coming, damn it.”</p><p> </p><p>I can hear the phone ringing on the other side of the door as I shove the key in the lock, my backpack slipping on my arm as I try to unlock it.</p><p> </p><p>“Shit. Shit. Shit.”  The door opens, and I practically fall into the room, using the inertia to race to the phone on the kitchen counter.  Snatching it up, I gasp into the phone.  “Hello?”</p><p> </p><p>“Veronica!”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Lilly!” My heart leaps at the sound of my best friend’s voice. “Thanks for calling me back.”</p><p> </p><p>“Always!  I was so happy to hear your voice on your message.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s good to hear your voice too, Lilly.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s not a lie. While the fact that she and Logan kept their relationship a secret upset me, there was no way I could stay mad at Lilly for long.  We’ve been friends since we were little, and there was no way a guy—even a hot one like Logan—was going to come between us.</p><p> </p><p>“So how’s life?  How’s college?  How’s Logan?”</p><p> </p><p>I drop my backpack on the ground and shrug off my jacket.  Glancing at the clock, I calculate that I have approximately half an hour before Logan shows up from his Friday class.  Or not.  We seem to be finding ways of avoiding each other this week, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he didn’t come home until it was time for bed.</p><p> </p><p>“Awful.”</p><p> </p><p>“Awful, how?”</p><p> </p><p>My heart hurts.  Like, physically hurts in a way I never thought was possible. It tightens and twists as I think about drunk Logan, calling out in bed on Sunday night. It hurts when I think of how I got up before him, showered, and left to get coffee and breakfast without him before class, while he slept. It hurts at the silence that hung between us that entire evening while we worked on homework.  And every night this week, I wanted to cry when he crawled into bed and turned his back to me before we fell asleep.</p><p> </p><p>“We went over to another couple’s house for dinner last weekend, and he got drunk.  Like really drunk.  On purpose.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“I may have said something that caused it.” I bite the corner of my lip, pausing as I replay the events of the party in my head like I have been for the past five days. "We were teasing each other about our annoying habits, and I said something about the fact that he talks in his sleep."</p><p> </p><p>Lilly sucks in a sharp breath, and I cringe, blushing as I admit my mistake out loud.</p><p> </p><p>"I didn't realize he had nightmares, I just thought it was some weird little habit, and I think he was embarrassed so he decided to avoid me for the rest of the night and got drunk.  Which made me mad because he ditched me to drink."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, Veronica…"</p><p> </p><p>"I know!  It was dumb of me to say anything, but he didn't have to get drunk either!"</p><p> </p><p>"So, what did he say when you talked about things?"</p><p> </p><p>"We haven't."</p><p> </p><p>"You haven't talked about it?  When did it happen?"</p><p> </p><p>"Sunday night."</p><p> </p><p>"So, you're just ignoring that it happened?"</p><p> </p><p>"Ignoring. Avoiding.  Maybe a bit of hiding too. I keep leaving before he gets up in the morning, and he's been staying late at the library or in classes. And it sucks because we were starting to really warm up to each other, and then this happened, and now everything is so wrong."</p><p> </p><p>"He made a mistake, and you made a mistake.  Shit happens, Veronica.  You need to talk about it and figure it out.  That's how it works."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah...I know, but…" I toe off my sneakers and drop like a stone onto the bed, pulling my feet up, so I'm cross-legged.  "Lilly? Can I ask you something?"</p><p> </p><p>"What?"</p><p> </p><p>"You know him better than I do.  I need to know...is he really a drunk? Like a drunk-drunk?  Like my mom?"</p><p> </p><p>Her sigh is long and loud, with a deep pause at the end of it, and I wonder if I've made a mistake by asking.</p><p> </p><p>"No.  He's not a drunk.  I do know that he has nightmares and that sometimes when they get bad, he's used pot to help him sleep, but it wasn't all the time. And whenever we got drunk together, it was happy and fun, not sad and depressing.  How bad are his nightmares right now?"</p><p> </p><p>"They weren't bad—just some talking in his sleep—but then when he was drunk, he had this crazy one where he was calling out for someone to stop doing something, and when I tried to wake him, he wouldn't wake up.  He just passed out again."</p><p> </p><p>"And since then?"</p><p> </p><p>"Just some muttering again or nothing at all."</p><p> </p><p>"And you haven't talked about it with him? Asked him what he's dreaming about?  Talked about what he said?"</p><p> </p><p>"No."</p><p> </p><p>Another sigh, and I cringe. Lilly is not pleased at all.</p><p> </p><p>"So, you haven't apologized for embarrassing him either?"</p><p> </p><p>"What? No!  He hasn't apologized for ditching me and…"</p><p> </p><p>"No, no, no.  Stop right there, Vee. If you haven't talked to him and apologized, then what do you expect?  That it will just miraculously get better?  Trust me, I tried that with Sabrina, and it didn't work. It just gets worse until one day, a Government Counselor arrives at your door."</p><p>
  
</p><p><em>Holy Shit</em>.  Duncan was right. I mean, he's still a jerkface right now, but he was a correct jerkface.</p><p> </p><p>"What happened, Lilly?"</p><p> </p><p>"I'm trying to stay in line, Vee, but it's so hard." Lilly lets out a little groan of annoyance, and I don't know whether it's with herself or me. "Sabrina found a letter to me from a male colleague I met on a research trip.  Suffice to say, it had nothing to do with my research on examples of racism in pre-war marketing and everything to do with how I looked in a particular pair of jeans the day we worked together. I didn't do anything about my attraction to him, but Sabrina was livid.  She stopped talking to me. Wouldn't accept my apologies. She even slept in the university library one night to avoid me. I finally had to call in some professional help so we could talk and move forward."</p><p> </p><p>"You did that?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah.  I did.  I mean, I love her, and I'm trying so hard to make this work, Veronica.  Really. Not just because the Government wants me to, but because I really do care for Sabrina.  But it's so hard some days. We sometimes fight about the stupidest things. But the counselor helped me realize that when we fight, it doesn't mean she doesn't love me, or that I don't love her, and that I had to try and curb my tendency to self destruct our relationship."</p><p> </p><p>"Self destruct your relationship? What does that mean?"</p><p> </p><p>"It means that I had to take a long look at my family and my mother and how I never felt she loved me like my Dad and my Pop love me.  It means I had to allow myself to love and <em>be loved</em> by Sabrina without trying to run away or reduce our relationship to rubble by cheating on her. And it's a lot of hard work and talking, but trust me, Veronica—it's worth it."</p><p> </p><p>Lilly has always been crazy smart.  But this was a new type of smart I wasn't quite used to.  Emotionally vulnerable Lilly was a totally foreign concept to me, but hearing that she did love Sabrina gave me some hope that Logan and I could work through things.</p><p> </p><p>"Wow.  Duncan mentioned that you guys were seeing a counselor, but I didn't want to ask, in case you wanted to keep it private."</p><p> </p><p>"Veronica, you're still my best friend. That's why I'm telling you all this, so you learn.  Please, talk to Logan.  I really and truly want you both to work things out so you can be happy together."</p><p> </p><p>"I do too, Lilly. But I have to tell you since you talked about Celeste...Logan getting drunk really reminded me of my mom, and it freaked me out."</p><p> </p><p>"Then you need to tell him that."</p><p> </p><p>"I can't! No one's supposed to know about her drinking. If people know she still drinks, they may take her away to rehab.  Remember what happened to Dick's mom?  She went to rehab and never came back?  I don't want that to happen to <em>my</em> mom."</p><p> </p><p>"I know, but Veronica, you need to talk to Logan about this.  He's your partner. You can trust him."</p><p> </p><p>"How do I know that?  What if he tells his family and they say something?"</p><p> </p><p>"Trust me, he won't say anything to them."</p><p> </p><p>"How can you be sure?"</p><p> </p><p>"Because his family isn't perfect, either.  None of ours are.  We've all been handed this lie that everyone and everything is perfect, but it's not, Veronica.  That we've eradicated class systems and racism and misogyny, but in reality, they still exist, but we just don't see them behind all the closed doors."</p><p> </p><p>Hard facts.  Lilly is on a roll, dishing out the truth today.  I mean, she was always like this, but it's still taking my brain time to process and absorb it all.</p><p> </p><p>"I don't know what to say." It’s my best response, even if it’s lame.</p><p> </p><p>"Don't say anything.  Not to me, anyway.  Talk to Logan.  Don't keep things behind closed doors anymore."</p><p> </p><p>"Thanks, Lilly."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, and the next time you see Duncan, kick him for me. I called him this week, and that weirdo Pez-dispenser roommate of his answered. First he tried to chat me up about some band and then when Donut came on, my brother was spouting all sorts of nonsense about government conspiracies and things."</p><p> </p><p>"Isn't that what you're saying about the Government too, Lilly?"</p><p> </p><p>"No, I mean real conspiracies.  I  know things may not be the greatest, but I'm not going on about how <em>Orwell</em> is being secretly manipulated by hackers from Mexico to mess with the genetics of our offspring."</p><p> </p><p>I rub my face with my palm.  Fuck. Duncan was so easily influenced; it was amazing he didn't jump off some cliff face at some point in high school. Maybe that’s why Lilly still hung out with her little brother—to keep an eye on him.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, my God.  Is that what he's spouting now?  I try to keep the conversation to just our classes now because Piz has put some strange things in his head."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, well, if you can keep an eye on him, I would appreciate it.  He's acting strange...or maybe I should say stranger than usual."</p><p> </p><p>The clicking of the lock on the door makes me jump, and when Logan enters, I force a smile.  He nods at the phone and frowns, and I answer his silent question.</p><p> </p><p>"It's Lilly."</p><p> </p><p>"Is Logan there?! Give him the phone."</p><p> </p><p>I roll my eyes, shaking my head at her squeal in my ear.  "She wants to talk to you.”</p><p> </p><p>As I reach out my arm, passing the receiver to him, he pauses before taking it, looking at it like I'm trying to hand him a severed head.</p><p> </p><p>“Just a minute….” Stripping off his jacket, he throws it over mine on the chair and drops his backpack on the floor before taking the receiver from me.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Lil.  What’s up?”</p><p> </p><p>His forehead wrinkles as his eyes narrow at whatever she’s saying to him.  He purses his lips together as if trying to hold something back as his eyes dart to mine and then away.</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>With that, he hands me the phone again and I take it, slightly in shock at the shortness in his voice.  As I bring the receiver up to my ear, he wanders over to the kitchen and begins making coffee. Lilly lets out a deep sigh of frustration as I lift the phone to my ear.</p><p> </p><p>“I’d better go, Lilly.  Thanks for calling me.  I really appreciate your help.”</p><p> </p><p>“It was good to talk to you too, Veronica.  Take care of yourself and that jackass of a partner.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>My jackass.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks, Lilly.  Take care.”</p><p> </p><p>She hangs up and I look at the phone for a second as I disconnect. The base for the cordless phone is in the kitchen.  Logan is in the kitchen, obviously preparing for an evening of coffee and studying.</p><p> </p><p>If I want to know about what is causing his nightmares, the only way to do that is just ask. But if mentioning just his sleep talking made him upset, then how was I supposed to approach this?  It has me curious though.  Lilly said that his family had troubles too. Now I want to know what kind of troubles.</p><p> </p><p><em>Talk to him</em>.</p><p> </p><p>It sounds easy in my head.  Just walk over and talk.  Then why am I still sitting here on the bed?</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <strong>Logan</strong>
</p><hr/><p>Lilly’s words are still in my ear.  <em>Tell her about Aaron.</em>  Why would she even bring that up?  What the hell did Veronica talk to her about?  Veronica’s been acting like she can’t stand the sight of me for five days now, but somehow, telling her about my abusive S.O.B. father is going to make things better?  Lilly’s cracked if she thinks that will solve anything.  Right now, I just want to make coffee, plug in my headphones, and get as much done on my sociology project as I can so I can hide in the library all weekend and avoid the stifling silence in this room.</p><p> </p><p>Out of the corner of my eye I catch Veronica rising from the bed, but I don’t look directly at her, focusing instead on watching the coffee drip through the machine.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey.”</p><p> </p><p>I nearly jump out of my skin when I realize how close she is and I look down at her, holding out the phone to me.  Her eyes are big and blue and sad and I know I caused that sadness and I can’t stomach looking too closely.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey.”  I take it and swivel, placing it on the charger beside the coffee maker. “How’s Lilly doing?”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.  Her and Sabrina went through a rough patch but I think they’re making it through all right.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s good to hear.” I reach across the sink for two mugs, and place them in front of the coffee maker.  “Want a cup?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.  Please. She also asked me to keep an eye on Duncan for her.  I guess he was talking crazy to her about government conspiracies.”</p><p> </p><p>“Great.  Now we’re on babysit the Donut duty.”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s still our friend, Logan…”</p><p> </p><p>Pulling out the coffee carafe, I pour mine, then hers before replacing the carafe. “Yeah.  I know that.  And I’ll still look out for him.  But if I get in trouble for punching Piz, I’m hoping you’ll at least come and bail me out.”</p><p> </p><p>She walks around me to pull the milk from our small fridge under the counter and smiles as I drop in two sugar cubes and hand the mug to her.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you.  For the record, if you punch Piz, I will totally bail you out,” she states and pours some milk into the cup and crouches down to replace the milk in the fridge.  As she rises, a shy smile crosses her lips.  “I’ve missed you handing me my coffee in the morning.”</p><p> </p><p>I can’t help the wry chuckle that falls from my lips and I shake my head.  “Then maybe you shouldn’t have run out every morning before I woke up.”</p><p> </p><p>The smile disappears, replaced by a look of shock and then sadness again.  <em>Shit</em>.  When will I learn to keep my mouth shut?</p><p> </p><p>But then the sadness morphs into something else.  Anger.  The look in her eyes is unmistakable, and I suddenly feel like I’m about to burst into flames just from the look of disdain she is throwing to me.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine.” Her coffee mug comes down hard on the counter, splashing coffee everywhere, and she steps around me, heading for our jackets on the chair. “Forget it.”</p><p> </p><p>As she snatches up her jacket, I lunge towards her, grabbing her arm, and she freezes, horror crossing her face.</p><p> </p><p>“No!  Wait!  I’m sorry.  Really, Veronica, I’m really, really sorry.  For all of it.”  Miraculously, her expression softens as does my grip.  “I’m sorry I reacted the way I did at the party.  I’m sorry I got drunk and ditched you.  I’m sorry for that night, and I’m sorry it took me this long to apologize.”</p><p> </p><p>Her breath hitches, and she licks her lips, dropping her jacket back on the chair.  “I’m sorry too, Logan.  I’m sorry I said anything about your nightmares to Jackie and Wallace, and I’m sorry I was avoiding you all week.  I didn’t really give you the opportunity to apologize or for us to talk about what happened.”</p><p> </p><p>As I let go of her arm, she steps towards me, wrapping her arms around my waist and for a second, I’m at a loss as to what to do.  I can’t remember the last time anyone has ever apologized for anything they’ve ever done to me, much less hugged me after, and my arms just hang in the air behind her as she squeezes me.</p><p> </p><p>“And I've missed you.  It was stupid of me to run off every morning because I really have missed you,” she continues.</p><p> </p><p>"Then why did you run?"</p><p> </p><p>"I…" Veronica's arms tighten around me, her head presses against my chest.  Reaching for her hair, I begin to stroke it, and she exhales, her muscles relaxing into me, and it seems to unstick whatever is stuck in her brain. "I'm not sure. My parents...they used to argue when I was little, and when they did, I used to hide from the sound of their voices. Maybe I was doing the same with you? Hiding from the argument."</p><p> </p><p>A confession. A peek behind the curtain.  She's offering me a glimpse into her life, behind the facade of what we've all been taught to present as our families.</p><p> </p><p>"My parents argued too," I offer, hesitantly, making sure not to give away too much. "I think that's normal."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh. I guess it could be."</p><p> </p><p>Silence falls between us again, and I continue to stroke her hair. I've missed touching her so much that I feel high from all the serotonin my brain is releasing as I gently stroke her locks.</p><p> </p><p>"Veronica, can we promise each other something?"</p><p> </p><p>"What?"</p><p> </p><p>"Can we try to handle things differently next time?  Can we just talk about what happened instead of retreating? Because I don't know about you, but this week has been hellish for me."</p><p> </p><p>"It hasn't been very enjoyable for me, either."</p><p> </p><p>"Then promise me that next time I screw up, you'll stick around and let me try and make it up to you."</p><p> </p><p>"Okay.  I promise."</p><p> </p><p>"Good.  And I'll do the same for you. I’ll give you ample opportunity to grovel for my forgiveness."</p><p> </p><p>"Thanks."  Her head bounces against me as she laughs. "Thanks a lot."</p><p> </p><p>My head dips towards her as she raises hers, eyes sparkling in the evening light. Even though she looks happy now, I can see the dark circles under her eyes, through her makeup. I know I’ve been doing a lot of fake-sleeping with my back to her at night.  I wonder if she’s been doing the same?</p><p> </p><p>"You know what we should do now?"</p><p> </p><p>"What?"</p><p> </p><p>"Make up."</p><p> </p><p>Veronica's lips meet me halfway, soft and sweet and tasting of strawberry lip gloss. And I need her. Fuck, I <em>need</em> her because my chest constricts as I think of all the times I missed kissing her this week. And now I want it all. I want to kiss her for so long that it makes me forget about every kiss we didn't have. When her fingers dig into my shoulders as she opens her mouth to me, hungry for more, I take it as a sign and bend, hands locked firmly under her ass cheeks, and I pull her into the air. She gasps, her lips releasing from mine as her legs instinctively wrap around my waist. Her eyes are wide for a second before a delicious grin spreads across her moist lips.</p><p> </p><p>"You’re really making up for lost time, aren’t you?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes. Do you mind?"</p><p> </p><p>Her tongue darts across her lips, and she arches her eyebrow at me, conspiratorially.</p><p> </p><p>"Not at all.  Carry on."</p><p> </p><p>One-step and Veronica nips at my bottom lip, and I groan, slowly making my way toward the bed. Her legs tighten, her hips push into me, and I dig my fingers into her ass, tight against her jeans, to keep her secure. At the foot of the mattress, her palms cradle my cheeks, deepening our kiss, her tongue flicking mine, and I can't help the moan that rumbles through me. Pulling her lips away, she presses her forehead to mine.</p><p> </p><p>"Now what are you going to do with me?"</p><p> </p><p>"Whatever you want."</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes darken, and fuck, I'm hard as a hundred different ways to make her come fly through my head all at once. <em>Thank you for forgiving my jackassery. Can I give you an orgasm to make up for it?</em> Maybe a little too forward, but the intent lingers that I want to somehow make her blissfully happy.</p><p> </p><p>"I've missed kissing you." Veronica's fingers brush my cheek ever so gently, trailing up to my head where her fingers anchor in my hair. "Missed lying next to you. Missed feeling you next to me."</p><p> </p><p>"Let's never fight again," I offer and she giggles.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, since that's impossible...let's just enjoy the making up for now."</p><p> </p><p>The tip of her nose brushes mine, and I chuckle as she teases me.  In response, I kneel on the bed and release her, dropping her a short way to the mattress, and she squeals as we separate. My hands fall flat on either side of her shoulders, so I'm hovering just over her body, and she grins up at me.</p><p> </p><p>"You're too far away."</p><p> </p><p>Lowering myself, I brush my nose across hers, teasing her as she just did to me, and rise away again, laughing.</p><p> </p><p>"How was that?"</p><p> </p><p>Wriggling underneath me, she pouts, and I make another pass, lowering myself and stealing a quick peck on her lips and retreating.</p><p> </p><p>"Or that?" I tease.</p><p> </p><p>She turns her cheek and huffs, and I lower myself to kiss her once more, and that's when she makes her move, grabbing my shoulders and shifting her weight, tossing me off balance. I twist and fall to the side of her, and she pounces, throwing her leg over me and mounts my side, perching herself on my hip, laughing. We're near the edge of the tiny bed, and I buck as she screams, flopping myself on my back as she lands on my hips.</p><p> </p><p>From her new position, Veronica rocks back slightly, and my cock catches some friction from her ass and hardens. Her hands grasp my Henley, and she smiles.</p><p> </p><p>"Fine. You have me.  Now, what do you want to do with me?"</p><p> </p><p>She taps her index finger on the bow of her lips, wrinkling her nose as she pretends to think.</p><p> </p><p>"Hmmm...maybe this…?"</p><p> </p><p>The Cheshire grin she wears as she lowers herself down on top of me is incorrigible, and I chuckle as she brings her lips to mine. Heat rushes through me, and I close my eyes, enjoying her lips pressed firmly against me, her hands gripping my shoulders. When I cup her ass with my hands, she arches into me, and I moan into her mouth as she catches my cock through the fabric of my jeans. Her lips pull away slightly, teasing me, and my mouth follows hers, hungry for more. She must be feeling the same because her hips rock against me, and I stop myself from slipping my hand between us to give her some friction to grind against other than just my hips. Instead, I let myself wander, my fingers slip under the hem of her sweater to grasp her bare waist.  Her response is to open her mouth, allowing my tongue to find hers.</p><p> </p><p>I could do this all day and night. The weight of her on top of me is comforting, and from her position, I relinquish control to her completely.  Jesus, let her take the wheel. I'll go wherever she wants just as long as she continues to kiss me with this depth and tenderness.</p><p> </p><p>She releases my lips suddenly, panting as she works to catch her breath, and I'm more than a little proud that I've managed to take her breath away just with some kissing.</p><p> </p><p>Her neck is exposed as she arches, and I brush my lips across her collarbone, planting small kisses to the junction of her shoulder. When I suck the sensitive skin, Veronica gasps again, moaning as she calls out my name.</p><p> </p><p>“Lo-gannnnn…”</p><p> </p><p>"Is this okay?" I murmur into her skin.</p><p> </p><p>"Yes," she sighs, arching slightly to allow for more room between us. "More than okay."</p><p> </p><p>With her acceptance, I continue to tease her skin, alternating between little nips and soft kisses. Her hips begin to grind against me, harder as tiny mewls of satisfaction fill the room. Sliding my hand up slightly, I manage to make my way up her spine to the edge of her bra, where I stop, spreading my palm across her skin.</p><p> </p><p>I release her neck and drop my head down to the pillow to take in the sight of her; her face is flush and glowing, her lips swollen and red. My fingers trail up and down her spine, and she shivers.</p><p> </p><p>"You're very good at kissing." Her eyes flutter as she places her hands on my chest, overlapping, and lowers herself down to rest her chin on top.</p><p> </p><p>"Thanks.  So are you."</p><p> </p><p>"Mmmm...not as good as you, though…"</p><p> </p><p>The way she trails off makes me worry that she could be gearing up for something. My synapses start firing, on alert for whatever she has planned for me next—good or bad.</p><p> </p><p>"I think I inherited it from my mother. She once told me an old celebrity magazine said she had the best lips in Hollywood."</p><p> </p><p>"Ah.  That must be it."</p><p> </p><p>"It must."</p><p> </p><p>I continue to run my fingers up and down her back, and she sighs contentedly, a comfortable silence falling between us.  She lays her head down on my chest, her finger tracing the hatching in my Henley, and for a moment, everything is right with the world.  Closing my eyes, I savour her gentle touch as all the stress of the week floats away.</p><p> </p><p>"Logan?"</p><p> </p><p>"Hmmm?"</p><p> </p><p>"Exactly how many people have you kissed?"</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Well, that didn't last long.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Opening one eye, I look for any trace of annoyance, but she continues to avoid my eyes, still watching her finger tracing on my chest.</p><p> </p><p>"Is this a trap?"</p><p> </p><p>"No!" With that, she looks up at me, shocked. "I just...well, I wanted to know if you had any practice. Besides Lilly, that is."</p><p> </p><p>"This is such a bear trap. A big old, leg-ripping, blood-gushing, stump-forming bear trap."</p><p> </p><p>"What?  Why?  How is this a bear trap?" She sits up but stays perched on my hips, frowning at me.</p><p> </p><p>"What does it matter who I've kissed?"</p><p> </p><p>"I'm just asking!  I didn't know it was some sort of state secret."</p><p> </p><p>She moves to roll off of me, and my hands come down on her hips, locking her in place.  A little growl of frustration rises from her, but I don't let go.</p><p> </p><p>"Fine.  You want to know?  I'll tell you."  When she stops moving, I’m sure she’s not going to run, so I release one hip and raise a finger in the air, staring her down.  "One...Madison Sinclair kissed me during a free study about a week after I moved to Neptune. She got a one-day suspension because I didn't consent." I raise another finger. "Two...an extra on one of my parent's movies kissed me about a year later. She was my age, and it was amazing, but I never saw her again.  Three…" one more finger comes up. "...Lilly. And I refuse to go into any more detail.  Four…" One more finger and a deep breath. "Casey Gant because Lilly really thought I chose polyamory. He's a good kisser but not good enough to make me change my real answer. And that leads us to…" I point to her shocked face and grin.  "Number five.  You."</p><p> </p><p>For a second, she doesn't move, frozen in her disbelief.</p><p> </p><p>"Did you...um...with Casey…?"</p><p> </p><p>I shrug. "We fooled around while Lilly watched. Not all the way, if you get my drift, but still had some fun. But apparently, he changed his answer for <em>Orwell</em> to bisexual afterwards, so Lilly felt we did him a good service by helping him figure things out."</p><p> </p><p>Veronica's eyes grow wide, and her mouth drops open.  It seems like she's trying to form some words, but they don't come out. I believe the term for this paralysis may be gobsmacked.</p><p> </p><p>"Wha...whe...where the hell was I when this was happening?"</p><p> </p><p>I don't mean to laugh, but I can't help it.  She and Lilly were indeed inseparable in school, but she wasn't with her every minute.</p><p> </p><p>"Probably with your family.  It was over the summer break a few years ago.  I guess Casey made a remark about the level of my hotness in the cafeteria one day, and Lilly felt the need to act."</p><p> </p><p>"So...you fooled around with Casey but didn't change your preference to bisexual  or polyamorous?"</p><p> </p><p>"This is correct.  Again, good kisser, but I just didn't see that being my preference in the long run."</p><p> </p><p>She bites the corner of her lip, a V forming between her eyebrows as she regards me from her perch.</p><p> </p><p>"Interesting."</p><p> </p><p>"Interesting?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes.  Interesting. And kinda hot."</p><p> </p><p>I slide my hands back down to her ass, giving her a squeeze, and she laughs.</p><p> </p><p>"The thought of Casey and me going at it turns you on?"</p><p> </p><p>Blush rises in her cheeks. "A little." She takes my shirt in her fists and gives it a playful tug. "Can I tell you something?"</p><p> </p><p>"Anything. You can tell me anything and everything, Veronica. No judgment."</p><p> </p><p>She sucks in a sharp breath, glancing away for a moment and then back to me.</p><p> </p><p>"Even though I never did anything about it, I once had a vivid sex dream about Lilly."</p><p> </p><p><em>She's definitely going to kill me.</em> My cock twitches at the vague thought of Lilly and Veronica rolling around on a bed in front of me, and I hope she doesn't notice the movement beneath her.</p><p> </p><p>"Wow.  I have to say, I was honestly not expecting that confession."</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, well, I never did anything about it, obviously, and I've never really felt any attraction to any women other than that one dream…" She wriggles on top of me, averting her eyes, and I can feel the  discomfort she has talking about this just radiating from her body. "...but since you were so honest with me, I thought I would be honest with you."</p><p> </p><p><em>Honest.</em> Being honest with each other.  What a concept. After seeing the lies tossed back and forth by my parents, hiding my relationship with Lilly, and the scars on my back, honesty is sort of a foreign concept to me.  It's definitely not my default setting.</p><p> </p><p>My hand slides up her back, over her shirt and spreads across her shoulder blades, gently pressing her back down towards me, and her eyes light up when she licks her lips, picking up the signals I'm sending. When she arrives, her kiss is gentle and warm, and I close my eyes and lose myself for a moment in the kindness of it all. She didn't judge me, she didn't get mad or upset by my revelation.  In fact, she decided to share her own feelings as well.</p><p> </p><p>As she moves away again, grinning at me, her hair falls and tickle my cheeks as she keeps herself raised up ever so slightly above me, as if she's just taking a moment before returning to my lips again.</p><p> </p><p>"So...what should we do now?"</p><p> </p><p>"This. Just this.  I want to kiss you and touch you and stay just like this for as long as possible."</p><p> </p><p>I brush a section of hair hanging down on my face and tuck it behind her ear as she sighs.</p><p> </p><p>"I think that's a fantastic idea."</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <b>Veronica</b>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>I should be reading my Legal Research and Writing text while I wait for Duncan to show up.  Instead, I’m caught in a daydream loop involving Logan kissing the nape of my neck at night, one of his hands sliding slowly up my shirt while the other pulls down my sleep shorts and damn it, I’m not ready to leave this little fantasy world.  The reality of the last month has been a lot tamer, but as of a few days ago, this little kernel of thought seeded itself in my brain in the form of a very erotic dream, and it has grown and flourished, taking over my waking thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s been a lot of kissing and making out going on, but Logan hasn’t made any move to take things further.  I know the reason why—it’s me.  He’s waiting for me to say something to give him the go-ahead to take things to the next level, but no matter how much I get swept up in the moment when we’re making out,  I can’t bring myself to ask him to go further.  It just doesn’t seem right.  Not yet. We’ve only been together just over a month and things have been going so well that I don’t want to do anything to disturb that peace. Sex would just complicate things right now.  Actually, who am I kidding—if we were to have sex we may never leave our room again and fail all of our classes.  As it is, we were late for our classes on Tuesday when Logan decided to lift me up to sit on the kitchen counter so I could wrap my legs around him when our morning goodbye kiss got out of hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A ripple of giddiness makes me shiver as I focus on the memory of Logan pressed against me at the counter. Damn, that man knows how to kiss. And if he’s as big as he feels when he’s hard against me, I just may…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Veronica!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The heat of embarrassment flashes across my skin and I can’t look him in the eye as he sits across from me.  “Hey, Duncan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He drops his backpack on the table and proceeds to unload his books, completely oblivious to my discomfort.  Damn.  Now all I want to do is work on this project and get home to make out with Logan all night. Spending a Friday night with Duncan is not really my idea of a good time right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Professor Dent was pretty harsh today.  I can’t believe we have until next week for this project.  We could be researching this forever!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, but you’re forgetting our secret weapon—Lilly!”  I pull the assignment paper out from my notebook and skim the prompts again.  “Researching past immigration laws is going to be easy.  I’ll just give Lil a  call tomorrow and see what research she's done on the topic.  Maybe she even has a few contacts I can call to get some quotes from actual scholars in this field.  And if you take on researching our current immigration laws, then we’ll be able to start writing this thing by Monday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re pretty optimistic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s my cheerful personality.” I pull the cap off my highlighter with my teeth and drop it in my hand before highlighting our research topic on the page. “That and I want to focus on my sociology paper next week so I’m really hoping to get a lot of work done on this project this weekend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!  That’s good.  Maybe we can get together on Sunday and work on it then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My nose wrinkles at the thought of spending too much time with Duncan. I know that Lilly wanted us to keep an eye on him but I had classes with him every day of the week. For a month.  And he may be one of my best friends, but that was still a lot of Duncan.  The weekend was my official non-babysitting hours. If I'm this sick of him as a classmate, I'm pretty sure if we were partnered, I would be half-way to the Canadian border right now, to save myself from the monotony and self-absorption.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was thinking maybe we could get together on Monday at lunch and show each other what we’ve done.  That gives us the weekend to research.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Right.”  Duncan opens his text, his eyes cast down like a puppy who’s been reprimanded for peeing in a shoe. “Well, it’s probably for the best—Piz and I are finally going to check out the campus pub on Saturday night.  He got a gig DJ'ing one night and if they like him, it may be a regular thing."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should ask Logan to go and hang out with you. I think he’s kind of missing his best friend.  He’s mentioned to me a few times that I see you more than he does, now."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.  I know. I really should and I feel bad that we haven’t really been hanging out since we got here.”  Duncan purses his lips together and nods slowly. “It’s really not like high school anymore, is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sharp laugh escapes me and I look around to see people in the library glaring in my direction. “That’s the understatement of the year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m glad when Duncan chuckles too, his expression relaxing as he leans over his textbook closer to me. “I don’t know about you, but I’m so sick of the cafeteria food.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh.  Yes!  Why do we have to have the same options every few days?  At first, it was fine but a month in I’m starting to get sick of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what I miss?  I really miss my Pop sitting at the kitchen table, helping me with my homework. It’s stupid, but there’s been a few times where I’m reading something in my textbook and really want to call him and discuss it with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.  I miss my Dad, and my Mom too.  Even if my mom was driving me crazy, I do miss her making me waffles for breakfast.  The frozen ones Logan buys and makes in the toaster just don’t cut it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence falls between us at the mention of Logan again. Duncan starts tapping the tip of his pen on his textbook, focusing on it as it bounces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you guys are doing well then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are,” I answer, quietly. “We’re figuring it out.  I mean, it’s not perfect but at least we’re trying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmmm.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The unintelligible response is followed by awkward silence again.  I think this is the first time we’ve talked about anything that wasn’t school work since we started classes and it was strange but familiar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you and Piz getting along? Having a roommate that isn’t Lilly must be a change.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckles again and I’m glad that I was able to defuse whatever lingering resentment hung in the air, at least for now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Piz is fine. He’s been at the campus radio station a lot so I end up having a lot of time to myself to work, but when he’s around, he’s been an interesting guy to get to know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah?  How so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Duncan shrugs, averting his eyes and it makes me wonder what he’s hiding from me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He just has a lot of access to information that we don’t.  Through connections and different channels.  I mean, he wants to be a journalist, but not some stooge for the government, just spitting out canned messaging, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nod as if I do, curious to see what Piz has been telling him. “Sure.  I mean, there was a whole network of underground communications back during the war, it’s not out of the realm of possibility that it still exists.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” Duncan’s eyes light up like I just guessed the secret to his very existence. “Yes!  Exactly.  And just like Lilly, he has information about things that are going on outside of our country.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Duncan’s gaze darts to the left, then the right before he stands and scurries around the table, dropping into the seat next to me.  Still keeping his eyes on those around us, he leans in towards me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like the fact that Orwell can be hacked and the government doesn’t want us to know that people are manipulating the DNA of our offspring.” His brows come together as he lowers his voice in earnest.  “That the New Democracy is using people as guinea pigs for scientific experiments in underground laboratories.  That all of us born after the war have been microchipped and they can track everything we do and where we go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I take a sharp breath, holding it for a second before releasing it slowly, trying to calm the sudden spike in my heart rate.  Lilly was right; Piz was a bad influence on Duncan. The things he is talking about are the rantings of a lunatic.  With all the bureaucratic checks and balances that are now in place, and the transparency of the laws and actions of the elected officials scrutinized by multiple levels of government, what he was saying just couldn’t be happening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even this college, Veronica.” His voice drops to barely a whisper as his head moves closer to my ear. “They’re feeding us lies on behalf of the government.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“O--kay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No…I know what you’re going to say but think about it. They chose you and Logan to be together because both of your families are cogs in the great government machine and you were selected for roles that will showcase that but also your…” he waves his hand in front of me in some ridiculous conjuring fashion. “…your offspring will be perfectly positioned in every way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I take another deep breath, trying to steady myself. “So then, what you’re saying is that Logan and I were selected to be together not by our personality tests and sexual preferences but by some large scale government plot involving eugenics and returning to a pre-war hierarchical class system?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” he hisses.  “You get it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do </span>
  <em>
    <span>get it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but Duncan, I don’t believe it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His jaw drops and he shuts it quickly, tossing me a stern look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course you don't. Logan has you under some sort of sexual spell."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can't help my snort of laughter and I shake my head. "Logan doesn't have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>sexual spell</span>
  </em>
  <span> on me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He does. That's why we were all taught about sex and pleasure—the kind of things they didn't teach before the war. They want us to feel good so we'll keep doing it. It's part of their plan."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So now you're telling me that </span>
  <em>
    <span>orgasms</span>
  </em>
  <span> are part of a government conspiracy too?" I smirk. "I'm kinda certain that orgasms were around before the New Democracy so Piz's theory may be a bit flawed."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What I don't mention is that any and all orgasms I've had in the last month may have had Logan in mind, but he most definitely was not with me when they happened.  Pleasure was certainly not just for those in relationships.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're laughing at me. You're laughing at me, aren't you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The register of his voice drops to a thick baritone and a chill runs down my spine. Anger radiates from him in a way I've never seen before. It’s time to diffuse this thing before it becomes a scene.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, Duncan.  I'm not laughing at you. Not at all.  But you need to take what Piz is saying with a grain of salt. I mean, I'm not so naive as to think some things aren't the greatest with the government, but I've told you that before.  What you're telling me is pure conspiracy theory with no basis in fact."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No basis, huh?  No basis?  Then how is it you got partnered with Logan when you are both so obviously incompatible."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We're not incompatible!"</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Okay.  That came out much harsher than I expected it to. And louder. So much for not causing a scene.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes, you are, Veronica. You're smart and kind and perfect and Logan is...not."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you hear yourself? This is your best friend you're talking about. You're saying that your best friend doesn't deserve to have someone partnered with him who may have all the qualities you think I do."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Duncan hangs his head, avoiding my anger.  I grab my backpack off the ground, open it on the table, and begin shoving books into it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You need to get over this ridiculous notion that you and I were somehow destined to be together, Duncan. And you also have to stop talking to Piz about these crazy conspiracy ideas he has in his head."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"They aren't crazy," he mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes.  They are. And you need to smarten up and realize it." Zipping my backpack, I stand and toss it over my shoulder. "Call Logan. Talk to him. Salvage your relationship before it's too late to go back. Being mad about a girl is a stupid, outdated chauvinism and you need to get over it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He huffs in annoyance and pauses for a second. "Fine."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fine?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes. Fine. I'll call Logan."</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Huh.  That was easy</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I mean, relatively speaking.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay then." I soften my tone when I speak this time. "I'm glad, Duncan because I want us all to still be friends."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You do?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes.  I do.  We've all been friends forever. I don't want to lose that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Neither do I."</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There.  Resolved.  That wasn't so bad. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay.  Cool.  So I'll call Lilly tomorrow and start my research.  See you on Monday?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah. See you then." Duncan forces a smile and I figure it's better than a frown so all good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I turn on my heels and walk away.  Best to get out while we are still working on being friends then stay and jeopardize it further.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <b>Logan</b>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>I'm so engrossed in my book that I jump a bit when Veronica walks into the room. She drops her backpack on the ground and toes off her shoes before tossing her jacket on the chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey."  She smiles weakly at me and pushes her hair back from in front of her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I place my bookmark on my page and set it down on the side table. Stretching my arms, I yawn and drop my hands behind my head as I lean against the headboard. As soon as I got home from class, and read her note that she was meeting Duncan at the library tonight, I immediately jumped into sweats and a t-shirt and climbed into bed to read and enjoy the solitude.  Apparently I lost track of time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey. You look tired."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I am." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica heads towards me and to my delight, she crawls into the bed on her side and wraps her arms around my waist, her head now on my chest. She's still in her jeans and a tight pink t-shirt and part of me wants to suggest she change as well and we can spend the evening cuddling under the covers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, I plant a little kiss on the top of her head as I wrap my arms around her and she exhales, loud and long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Did you eat dinner yet?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah.  I just grabbed something on the way home from the library."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How did it go?  Did you get a lot done?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No. Not really.  We divided up the work but didn't get any actual research done before I bailed."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As I run my fingers along her bare arm she shivers against me, the hairs on her arm standing on end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I figured you'd be later than you were.  What happened?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shifts so her leg is flung over mine and she snuggles so close she's practically on top of me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Duncan started talking about all his conspiracy theories."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh.  And what new and interesting things is Piz putting in his head?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica takes a sharp breath, holds it for a second, and then relaxes against me again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He thinks there's a plot to manipulate </span>
  <em>
    <span>Orwell</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He said that it's rigged so our </span>
  <em>
    <span>offspring </span>
  </em>
  <span>are selected to be genetically perfect based on matches and has nothing to do with our personal compatibility algorithms."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can't help but snicker and Veronica slaps my chest playfully with her palm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey! You don't think our children will be perfect?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course they will, that's not what I'm laughing at. I'm laughing at Duncan and his crazy ideas." It takes me a second for my brain to catch on to what she's saying.  But she can't really be saying it, can she? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wait...you don't believe him, do you, Veronica?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I...no…?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Veronica, are you kidding me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raising her head, she rolls so her chin rests on her palm on my chest and she looks at me in earnest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No.  I don't.  But I mean, life is turning out to be so much different from what I thought things would be that I...I'm a little confused."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Confused by what?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Everything.  I mean, he said some pretty wacky things, but what if there's a kernel of truth to it?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Then, I guess we'll find out when we start our careers and work to change things."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How pragmatic of you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well?  What do you suggest? We start another revolution when the last one did so much to change things for the better for the majority of people?  So what if we lost privileges.  So what if we gave up things.  What we gained is so much better than what we gave up."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So you don't think we gave up our freedom?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Maybe we gave up some freedoms, but if it was for the betterment of our society, then I think it was worth it."  I take a breath and decide it's time to share a bit more about my family, but not too much. "My mother came from a small town in the midwest.  Grew up with little to nothing. She said she became involved in the rebellion because she felt that losing the privileges she gained in Hollywood was not a bad thing.  She never feared it because she started out in life with very little but was still happy back then, you know? She said that if change meant that everyone had the same opportunities in life, then it was worth it for the greater good of humanity."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wow," she whispers. "Your mom sounds pretty cool.  No wonder she was a badass spy."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I chuckle.  "She is pretty badass when she wants to be.  What about your dad though?  Does he talk a lot about the war?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No.  Not much.  He just insists that things are better than they were but he never really talks about his involvement. I think he's just so humble that he's never really wanted to talk about his heroics."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her brow furrows and she bites the corner of her lip in thought. Is it wrong that I always find her the cutest when she's thinking hard about something? There's something about her plotting like she's about to take on the world that I love.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wait.  Love?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It's suddenly uncomfortable to stare directly at her so I close my eyes, and tip my head back slightly. </span>
  <em>
    <span> Play possum. That's it.  Good choice.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"So basically what you're saying…" she begins slowly as if she's putting all the pieces of what we were talking about together. "... is instead of </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> of us being oppressed by the system that we are all oppressed by the system and therefore it feels like freedom?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No.  I'm saying that the equalizing of us all and the absence of want and need for material gains has freed all of us to work towards being our better selves and a better country. We’ve eliminated competition and greed, which, as we once found as a society, is in fact the root of all things evil."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pauses, tapping her finger on my chest and I hear her chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's some big brain thinking."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I open my eyes and she's grinning at me and I can't help but laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thanks.  I try to use my big brain whenever possible."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Speaking of big brain…little brain..." she tosses a glance towards my crotch and laughs again before returning back to my eyes. "Duncan also believes that we were all taught about pleasure in human sexuality as a plot to keep everyone happy and distracted with orgasms."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This catches me off guard and my face contorts, incredulously. "What the fuck?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica giggles, her hand falling to my belly and my muscles involuntarily tighten at her touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think our plan to make him think we're having crazy wild sex has backfired and he believes I've fallen under some sort of sexual spell."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes darken as her cheeks flush and she quickly looks away and, damn, she was turned on by what she just said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Little does he know, it's </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>that has put a spell on </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica glances back up, the corner of her lip twitching into a wry smile. Sliding herself along the side of my body, she pauses when her nose reaches mine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think it’s an equal partnership in the spell casting, don’t you?."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tossing her leg over my waist, she shifts, straddling me, but her face keeps hovering in front of mine, toying with me, her eyes daring me to kiss her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I do enjoy how you just trapped me on the bed while telling me we're equal. Because right now, I feel like you have the upper hand."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hmmmm.  Excellent point." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her lips brush mine before retreating again just out of reach, teasing me with that wicked twinkle in her eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know, though, Duncan does make an excellent point as well," I add, pausing as I mentally prepare myself to tackle the big, pink elephant in the room.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"About what?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Orgasms."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Orgasms?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes." Hesitantly, I trail my fingers up her calves, pulled tight to my body, to her thighs slung over mine,  and her lashes flutter but she doesn't move. My fingers move along her hips following the edge of her jeans and press ever so gently against the seam,  continuing along her zipper until I hit the junction where our bodies meet and she gasps when I stop. "I feel like I should mention, that just because we don't want to have sex...yet...there are other ways we can find that are...mutually satisfying?"  I press my fingers ever so slightly into the fabric, the sensation causing her to buck against me, another gasp escaping her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a second, she closes her eyes and I begin to stroke her through the thick fabric, watching her face respond to the tiny pleasure I'm providing. Her lips drop open and her breathing speeds as her hips begin to rock against me. When her eyes half-open, she smiles a delicious grin that makes me think she’s about to devour me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She moves away from my face for a moment, reaching for the edge of her t-shirt and with one swift move, pulls it over her head and tosses it on the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Maybe </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> clothes on.  But not many?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holy shit.  I can't breathe. I've been trying to imagine what she looks like in various stages of undress but no fantasy has prepared me for this moment of seeing her in her jeans and soft pink cotton bra, her nipples hardening before my eyes in the chill of the room. Thoughts of all the wonderful ways I can make her cum just dressed like this, paralyze me and it isn't until she clears her throat that I snap out of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know, you have my permission to touch, right?" She licks her lips, a smug look of satisfaction across her face and she just knows what power she has with this one move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it gets to me.  Lilly went into our relationship like a tornado and I just jumped in.  But what’s happened with Veronica over the past month has been so much sexier as she’s become more confident, more daring, more passionate than I ever fantasized she could be.  She always displayed that confidence in classes but bringing that side of her out, behind closed doors, is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.  And it’s just made my attraction to her that much more intense, thinking about what is still to come.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gathering up my nerve, I cradle one breast with my palm, sweeping my thumb over her nipple and she gasps. When I continue to move, ever so slightly back and forth over the fabric, she moans, her hips sinking down against mine. Increasing the pressure of my fingers against her jeans, she moans again, deep and low, her head dropping back as her eyes close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"God, that feels so good."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So you want me to continue?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her head straightens and she focuses on me again as she leans forward to plant a deep kiss on my lips before retreating. "If you don't continue, I'll be very disappointed."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pressing up into her with my fingers again, I feel her folds spread beneath the fabric and she gasps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, I wouldn't want to disappoint you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time when her head dips toward mine, it's an attack, her kiss urgent and hungry and I'm more than happy to respond with tongue and teeth. As it continues, thoughts of pulling every piece of fabric from both our bodies and burying my tongue deep inside her jump into my head.  I want to hear her scream and moan my name so badly that I’m overwhelmed by it.  I can’t even think of a time when I’ve wanted to be with someone so much that I physically ache.  When her cold hands slip up my shirt, I rock us upright, parting from our locked lips, allowing her to pull my shirt over my head and…</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck. Shit.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Panic rips through me and I freeze. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What the fuck did I allow her to just do? If she sees my back she'll see my scars.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"Um...Logan?" Veronica snaps her fingers in front of my face and I blink out of my shock. "Where'd you go?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I…I think my brain just glitched." My mind is moving at lightning speed.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lie.  Distract.  Fall back on what I've been taught to hide. </span>
  </em>
  <span> "I think I was just overwhelmed with ideas about what to do with you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Do with me</span>
  </em>
  <span>." She laughs, her hands cradling my cheeks as she presses her chest to mine, trapping my hand against her breast. "There are sooooooo many things I would like for you to </span>
  <em>
    <span>do with me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Logan."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Really." My lip curls at the thought of her asking for what she wants. "Tell me more. What would you like, Veronica?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dragging her teeth over her bottom lip, her eyes light up.  Slowly, she rises from me and steps off the bed, her eyes still fixed on mine as she begins to unbutton the top of her jeans. The sound of her unzipping her pants fills the silence in the room and my eyes drop to see a hint of her pink panties. She takes a sharp breath before bending at the waist, pushing her pants off of her, leaving her only in her pink cotton bikini panties and bra. I can see the soft mound of hair between her thighs through the fabric and all I can think of is how much I want my mouth on her, now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Veronica….fuck…."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She kneels on the edge of the bed and tosses her leg over my lap to straddle me again. "Well, I'm kind of hoping for that, in some way tonight. Maybe we can go </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost</span>
  </em>
  <span> all the way?  If you know what I mean?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah." I grin. "I know </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> what you mean."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When her lips reach mine this time it's demanding, her tongue pushing past my lips immediately as her hips grind against me. Her hands are pressed to my pecs and she digs her nails into me when I reach between us again, two fingers slipping over the top of her panties and through her soft hair. She's already wet and when I catch her hard clit with the pads of my fingers she releases our kiss with a gasp, her forehead pressing to mine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh! Yes, Logan. There."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she arches away from me, I lean forward, my hand spreading across her back, pulling her breast to my mouth. My tongue sweeps the fabric of her bra, catching her nipple and she cries out again with pleasure, her hips rocking against my hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Take off your bra, Veronica.” I murmur into her skin. “Let me see you.  Please."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hands shake as they bump mine, reaching around to release the clasps. I shift to press my lips against hers and she hums in appreciation. When her bra falls between us, I pull back, to take in her revelation of her pale pink skin, round and smooth and perfect topped with the darkening hard skin of her nipples, standing erect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jesus, Veronica. You're even more perfect than I imagined." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My lips fall to her breast, taking her nipple in my mouth and sucking it slightly and a small gasp and moan resonate in her.  Her fingers slip through my hair and she arches to me again, pressing her breast further into my mouth.  When I start to flick her nipple quickly with the tip of my tongue, she moans and cries out, digging her fingers into my hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh God.  Logan.  Yes...like that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I feel a rush of wetness against my fingers and I slide through it, lubricating her folds as I move quickly, back and forth over her clit.  She's writhing against me now, high mewls of need mixing with intelligible words as I continue to work her nipple and clit, faster and faster. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her voice changes pitch and I realize she's close to coming. But I'm not done with her.  Not yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When I release her before she can climax, a shriek of annoyance fills the room and I laugh, wriggling lower under her body until she's straddling my chest, my head on the pillow.  Looking up at her, I slide my hands to her ass, pulling her towards me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Straddle me and hang on to the headboard."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a second, there's a look of shock that crosses her face, before she nods, complying with my instructions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With her mound positioned just above me, I push aside the fabric of her underwear, exposing a shock of blond wiry hair. For a second, I'm intoxicated by just staring at her, the image of what she looked like merging with reality.  I slip my fingers through her wet folds, spreading her wide and inviting. Her glistening, engorged skin makes me salivate, hungry for her.  The first pass of my tongue across her clit makes her cry out, the second makes her moan, and when I suck the hard nub between my lips she swears like a sailor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jesus Christ, Logan!  Fuck!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I take this as a good sign and press my fingers to her entrance. When she moves her hips, looking for more, I slowly slide two inside of her, feeling the warmth of her cum spread across my skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Logan.  Please, Logan, please…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Closing my eyes, I begin to work my fingers inside her and her clit with my tongue as she writhes against me, calling out my name, over and over again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then suddenly, she's contracting around me, her muscles pulsing and pulling at my fingers and against my lips as she comes, hard and loud.  But I don't stop.  I continue to move as she cums, prolonging the pleasure until I think she's spent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And I swear that goddamn that the pride that swells in my chest like I just surfed to shore on a fucking tsunami wave.  Having sex with Lilly was fun, but that's nothing compared to serving up a whopping dose of pleasure to the woman I love.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.  There's that word again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica drops beside me, still panting, and I chuckle as I gather her into my arms. Her head drops onto my chest, sweat from her body causing her to stick to mine. I pass my hand over my mouth, wiping the savoury taste of her from my lips before kissing the top of her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wow," she mutters and kisses my skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wow.  That's all I get?  A 'wow'?" I tease.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sorry. I'm a little...wow."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Veronica?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I place my finger under her chin and she raises her gaze to me. Tears are welling in her eyes and she blinks them away, trying to hide her emotions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I just...when I imagined us together...I didn't even...I mean….this felt so much better than I ever could have dreamed. And I'm just a bit overwhelmed by it.  I'm sorry."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't be sorry.  Don't ever be sorry for how you feel around me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I want to say it.  I want to say what's been in my head so badly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  I.  Love. You.  But the words for some reason don't come out of my mouth.  Not yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She begins to trace down my sternum with her index finger, her eyes following her path as she moves.  When she gets to my belly she pauses and begins to make small circles, over and over again until she reaches my navel and changes the pattern. Slowly, she traces a heart, once, then twice around before pausing. A heart.  A goddamn fucking heart. My own heart stops for a second as I contemplate why she would do this. Maybe it’s a sign.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t have much time to contemplate further because her palm is now flat against my skin on the edge of my sweats and as her hand slips under my waistband, I gasp. I'm commando and if she was paying any attention to the hard-on I got as she straddled me while I was sucking her tits, she would know it. Her fingers graze the head of my cock and I can't help the moan that falls from my lips. Every nerve in my body is vibrating at such a high frequency that when she wraps her fist around my shaft, I think I'm going to pass out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Veronica…" My voice is high and strained. "You don't have to…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But...what if I</span>
  <em>
    <span> want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sits up at my side, still gripping me, and smiles and holy hell, the sight of her mostly-naked while holding on to me is almost enough to make me cum right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Logan, you got to see me in the most intimate way. Now, I want to see you.  Please."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I take a sharp breath. If I stay on my back, she won't see my scars.  Just stay on my back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"All right, Veronica. I’m all yours."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At my approval, she uses her other hand to pull down my sweats all the way to my ankles and I push them completely off at the edge of the bed. Her eyes widen as she finally sees me spread out naked in front of her and she gasps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh.  My."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can't help but chuckle as she flushes red across her entire body, her eyes not moving from my cock in her fist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thank you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica giggles, glancing up at me. "I always thought you were cocky.  Now I know why."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you making jokes while my penis is in your hand?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a shrug, she looks from me to her hand, to me again. "I feel like you're more inclined to laugh."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I open my mouth to retort, but at the same moment she strokes down on me and I moan instead. Closing my eyes, I focus all my attention on her hand as it strokes me and all the muscles in my legs tighten in response to the tingling that is now running through me.  Her strokes continue, slowly up and down and her fist tightens with just the right pressure that it feels like I'm going to cum harder and faster than I ever have in my life. When I dare to open my eyes again, her face is hovering near her hand, transfixed by what she's doing to me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Veronica…" I choke.  "I'm not going to last long."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, so I should do this while I have the chance?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her lips wrap around my head and the sight of her taking me deep into her mouth sends a pulse of pleasure through me as I've never felt before. Goddamn it, weeks of making out with her and imagining this is making everything feel so good that I never want it to end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As her lips slide up and down me, as her hand strokes in rhythm I once again thank the universe and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Orwell </span>
  </em>
  <span>for putting me in this exact place and time. When my belly and my balls clench, I reach down for her, grabbing her shoulder for dear life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Veronica, I'm going to…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her lips come off me just in time and she angles my cock towards my belly as I cum, her hand pumping me as I do. A rush of endorphins and oxytocin hit my brain, dazing me in a flash of light behind my eyelids. My body pulses as she continues to stroke me, drawing out my orgasm as I did hers and I’m pretty damn sure my soul is trying to pull itself out of my body. It's not until every last drop of cum is out of me that she releases me, sliding up the bed to lay on her pillow, facing me, a wide grin across her face.  I realize I'm panting, a thin layer of sweat covering my body, and she presses a kiss to my temple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I...that was...I don't even…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why, Logan Echolls, I seem to have turned you to mush," she says with a giggle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hold up my index finger at her as I catch my breath. "For the record, I want you to know that when we do...you know...other stuff…I will last much longer.  But kissing you these past few weeks seems to have pent up some things."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glancing at my belly, she scrunches up her nose. "I'd say that's a lot of pent-up something."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pressing my palm over my eyes, I start laughing and she laughs along.  Fuck, it was good to just let go with her. I would have never thought that Veronica would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>fun</span>
  </em>
  <span> in bed, but somewhere along the way to this, something in her has changed.  She's more relaxed and happier than I've ever seen her and deep down, I hope it's because of me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolls away for a second and grabs some tissues from a box on her side table, then rolls back and hands them to me.  "Here you are."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thanks."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I take them and wipe everything off my belly, tossing the ball onto the ground on my side of the bed. Within seconds she's on top of me, straddling me again, her chest pressed to mine. Rising ever so slightly, my lips brush hers before she settles her head to rest on my chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Can we stay like this for a while?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her voice is soft and tender and I try to muster the strength to tell her how I'm feeling. But I can't. I don't want her to think I'm saying it because of what happened.  I don't want her to assume I'm saying it because I want more.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you seriously asking if you can continue to lay on top of me while naked? Because for the record, the answer will always be </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell yes.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She vibrates against me as she giggles before sighing contentedly. I begin to stroke her hair and she closes her eyes.  For a time, we lay in silence, and I close my eyes as well, running through what just happened over and over in my mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Logan?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I…" She pauses and I open my eyes to find her staring up at me, like a deer caught in headlights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What is it, Veronica?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking her head, she rolls off of me. "I'm going to take a quick shower and change for bed."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before I can say anything, she scampers across the room and shuts the bathroom door, leaving me naked, sprawled across the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What the hell was that?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sitting up, I lean over the side of the bed and retrieve my t-shirt, covering my back before rising and pulling on my sweats from the foot of the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I lay back down and stare at the ceiling. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.  </span>
  </em>
  <span>Maybe I was wrong. Maybe she wasn't as happy and relaxed about this as she made it seem.  Maybe we just made a big mistake. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <b>Veronica</b>
</p><hr/><p>Somehow in the night, Logan and I have become tangled together, and it feels so good, I don’t want to untangle from his limbs. So now I’m just lying here, watching his chest rise and fall as he sleeps on his back, his head slightly to the side.  He's looking wonderfully dishevelled with his dark hair spiked up from sweat and rolling around on the pillow all night, and I really want to run my fingers through it.  I woke up with my head in the crook of his shoulder, my leg slung over his and my hand up on his chest, under his shirt.  I’m plastered against his side, and he’s holding me here with one arm wrapped tightly under my body and around my waist, his hand securely on my hip, his other hand resting over mine on his chest, on top of his shirt.</p><p>I wish we were naked. Right now, I completely regret that I didn’t have the guts to suggest it when I came out of the bathroom for bed last night. As it was, it took every ounce of restraint I could muster to keep myself from walking back into the room, proclaiming my undying love for him, and begging him to have sex with me in any way he wished for the rest of the night.</p><p>
  <em> Love. </em>
</p><p>See..there was the problem. I almost said it last night, after the cataclysmic, mind-blowing, could-feel-it-in-my-teeth orgasm Logan gave me. <em> I love you </em>—I, love, you, Logan Echolls. </p><p>But what would he think of me? I've kept him at bay for over a month, figuring things out, and then the moment I have an orgasm, I'm proclaiming my love?  No.  It wasn't the right time or place. And what if it wasn't true?  What if I wasn't actually <em> in love </em> with him, and it was just a psychological byproduct of being intimate with him?</p><p>The other thing that bothered me, deep in the back of my mind, was the thought that maybe, on some level, Duncan was right. The idea that I had fallen under some sort of sexual spell sounded ludicrous when Duncan had mentioned it. But then it happened, and every flimsy wall I had put around my heart just dropped. And it was overwhelming.  It all seems too fast to be in love with someone.</p><p>In the end, by the time I regained my composure and came out of the bathroom, he was sitting up in bed again, reading his book.  So I just crawled in next to him and did the same. Every time I looked at him, it made me blush, thinking about how far we went, so I just avoided his eyes for a time until we got ready for bed.  That’s when I almost told him again, in the still and darkness, as I rolled into his arms, and he curled around me, kissing my shoulder, then my head, while murmuring 'good night.' I managed to wiggle myself to face him and gave him a soft, lingering kiss as he held me close, but no words were exchanged. Snuggled into his arms, I fell asleep quickly to the sound of his heartbeat near me.</p><p>But now, this morning, I feel different.  Like there’s a crack in my chest, and the pressure on the other side is building, threatening to explode my heart.  Is this what love is?  Is this what my parents once felt for each other?  Is this why Lilly would go to any and all lengths for Sabrina?</p><p>He shifts and yawns, and I stiffen against him, watching as he recognizes me wrapped around him as he opens his eyes a crack, a sleepy smile crossing his lips.</p><p>“G’ morning.”</p><p>“Good morning. How'd you sleep?”</p><p>Tightening his grasp on me, he closes his eyes again. “Best sleep of my life. We should stay like this all day.”</p><p>“I didn’t hear you talk in your sleep last night, so that’s good.” </p><p>“Hmmm…” he groans, lowering his lips to kiss my forehead and then retreating back to his position on the pillow. “Orgasms before bed can have that effect.”</p><p>I can’t help the giggle that rises, high and anxious in my throat.  “Are you suggesting that we should do what we did last night before bed every night?”</p><p>“Only if you want to. If you’re okay with it.” Logan shrugs, and my head bounces a bit as he moves. “When you disappeared afterwards, I wasn’t too sure you were completely comfortable with what happened last night.”</p><p>My laughter stops along with my heart. Gutted. Is he going to spend the rest of our lives calling me out?  Because this is brutal.</p><p>“Logan, I….” My voice fails me this early in the morning, and I struggle to find the words I need.  “I don’t...I don’t regret it at all. And I’m so sorry if I made you feel that way.”</p><p>Pressing on his chest, I rise slightly on my side so I can look him in the eye as I speak. He opens his eyes to me, his deep brown eyes gazing back at me with sadness. I hurt him.  Wounded him.  After feeling so great last night, now I feel terrible.</p><p><em> Fix it.  </em>Lilly’s voice in my head pushes me on.</p><p>“What happened between us last night was amazing. So very amazing that I was overwhelmed by it, mainly because I never thought of myself as a <em> passionate </em> person.” I take a breath and refocus, trying to push past my fear of saying too much, but not giving in to any proclamations of love. “But this past month with you has brought something out in me that I didn’t expect, and it’s terrifying and exhilarating.”</p><p>“I always knew you were passionate, Veronica. Remember?  I used to be on the opposition side of our debates in high school. I know how smart and passionate and witty and sarcastic you can be.” He sweeps a piece of hair from my face, and I melt when his fingers graze my cheek. “But if you didn’t see yourself as such, then I’m glad I can bring that side of you out even more.”</p><p>Logan cups my cheek, and I close my eyes, sinking into his touch. Everything he does now feels intimate, and it makes me lose control of my senses and thoughts. <em> Focus, Veronica </em>.</p><p>“I don’t question why <em> Orwell </em> put us together anymore,” I admit softly, opening my eyes to connect with him, fully and completely. “You’re my balance in life, Logan.  And I think that I’m yours.”</p><p>His lip twitches at the corner before breaking into a sincere grin, pushing lines through his stubbled cheeks. “Yin and yang as it were. Two parts of the same whole.”</p><p>“Yes. Exactly like that. But when I thought about who I would get partnered with in life, I never imagined it would be like that; I thought we would be so similar that it would be like two parallel lines going towards the same place, not two lines connecting and forming that circle. And it scares me because…” I take a sharp breath, trying to finish my thought. “Everything feels so much more intense this way.”</p><p>He frowns in concentration, his smile almost completely disappearing as he listens and processes my words.</p><p>“Then we’ll slow back down, Veronica.  I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. If it’s too intense and too much for you right now, with school and still getting used to all of the changes in our lives, then we’ll slow back down.” Logan drops a comforting kiss on my lips. “I just want to make you happy, that’s all.”</p><p>“You do! I mean, except when I’m cursing your name over toast crumbs and toilet seats, but for the most part, you do make me happy, Logan, in ways I never thought possible.”</p><p>“Good,” he chuckles.  “I’m glad.  And I’m still working on the toast crumb situation.”</p><p>I lean over and reciprocate his kiss, keeping my lips closed tightly as I am suddenly very aware of my own morning breath being this close to him. When I retreat, he grins up at me, his hand shifting to pat my butt cheek.</p><p>“And yes, maybe it’s a good thing to slow down on things again,” he adds. “Because if not, I could easily imagine doing all of those wonderful things with you that we did last night, all weekend, but that would mean we would both fail our classes.”</p><p>Heat pools between my thighs as all the delicious ways we could spend 24 hours in bed together and I remove my leg from across his, in case he can feel the warmth I’m feeling radiating against him.</p><p>“Well....” I lick my lips and grin.  “There’s that problem too.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <b>Logan</b>
</p><hr/><p>I was hoping she would take me up on it. I was so hoping she would say yes to the idea of fooling around all day.  Now, sitting in the campus pub, waiting for Duncan and Wallace to arrive, I’m glad she didn’t, mainly because the sexual tension between us all day was so hot it made me almost burst into flames.  </p><p>After I had an icy shower, we decided to grab breakfast and then head to the library together to work on some projects. Whenever she looked at me, she would blush, and it was so fucking cute. I had to resist the urge to kiss her every time.  At one point, her hand came down onto my knee under the table at the library while she was reading, and I wanted to suggest that we go behind the shelves and make out, imagining her legs twisted around my waist while I pressed her up against the books. Then when we got back to the room after lunch, the way she attacked me—straddling my lap when I sat at the table untying one shoe—it was a good thing Duncan called and interrupted so we could get more work done after.</p><p>When I called to ask Wallace to come to the Pub with me, for moral support, Jackie proposed having a "girls night" with Veronica, Parker, and Mac.  Veronica eagerly accepted and we found ourselves trying to get as much work done as possible in the short amount of time we now had. Even when Lilly returned her call about research, their conversation was quick and to the point, as we both tried to focus more on what we needed to do, and less on the desire to return to making out in the chair. </p><p>After dinner in the cafeteria, she walked to Jackie’s while I walked to the Pub on the other side of campus.  The Tipsy Professor was a hold-over from the old university structure, located in a red brick building that used to house one of the massive boilers.  Now, with the conversion to purely solar energy, it was a big concrete room filled with wooden booths and a long bar that stretched the length of one wall.  At the back was a small dance floor and a stage, where Piz was already set up, stacks of old-school CDs and equipment spread across a wooden table.  When I walked in, I didn’t notice Duncan or Wallace, so I chose a booth near the front door, so I could drink and watch for them to arrive.  It also had the added advantage of being as far away from Piz and his pre-war Electronic Dance Music as possible.  </p><p>The bar was already fairly busy with a predominantly male clientele, except for a few small clusters of women in the booths closer to the dance floor. We learned in Cultural Studies in high school that bars like this were one of the ways people would hook up and find each other. They were also places where predators went hunting for women to abuse.  For better or worse, <em> Orwell </em> eliminated all of the show of toxic masculinity and overstated femininity. We lost choice, but we gained safety. They saved lives. Looking at it now—with the stench of stale beer and sweat lingering in the air—it’s hard to imagine that this would be a place to find love.</p><p>A hand comes down on my shoulder, and I jump from my thoughts. Duncan is just behind the high back of the booth, and he laughs at my fright.</p><p>“Hah!  Got you!” He laughs and comes around to the other side of the table, sliding in.</p><p>“Fuck.  What are you….12 still?” I rise slightly and punch him in the shoulder with just enough force that it knocks him back slightly, and he laughs again.</p><p>“That the best you got?  I thought one of your extra-curriculars was weight lifting?”</p><p> “It is.  But I’m going to put boxing down next so I can kick your ass.”</p><p>“Sure, you will.” Duncan sheds his thick jacket and tosses it to the other end of the booth.  “What’s the beer selection like here?”</p><p>I look at my half-empty pint glass and shrug. “This is supposed to be the Tipsy IPA—house special—but it tastes like piss-water.  I think they water things down so we won’t get drunk and start a fight.”</p><p>“Piz and I went into the city to check out a band about two weeks ago, and the beer at the bar was amazing.  Reminded me of the stuff we stole from my dads’ stash at their barbeque last year.”</p><p>“Yes, well, that bar probably doesn't have to worry about just-legal students going crazy when they’ve had their first taste of the good stuff. We know this is shit because we’ve already had the good stuff. Most of these guys have probably never had a drink or a joint in their lives.”</p><p>“Don’t tell me this party started without me?” Wallace appears from  behind me and points to my beer glass. “Is it any good?”</p><p>“Terrible.  We should have convinced the ladies to come here instead, and we could have had real beer and tequila at your place.” I grimace as soon as the words leave my mouth, remembering how my drunken antics set off a week of hell for Veronica and me.  Maybe it was best to be drinking the watered-down stuff tonight.  Turning my attention back to the boys, I jerk my thumb at Duncan.  “Wallace, this is my best friend, Duncan Kane.  Duncan, this is Wallace Fennel, my soon to be second-best friend.”</p><p>The men shake hands, but Wallace keeps his attention on me.  “Soon to be second?  Damn. That’s harsh.  I’m taking back the friendship bracelet I bought you at the commissary.”</p><p>“I bought him one once.  He just lost it.  I wouldn’t spend the money.” Duncan chuckles, shaking Wallace’s hand briefly before rising from the booth. “Want me to grab the first round?”</p><p>I lift the glass to my lips and toss back the remaining beer-water in one long chug, handing my empty glass to Duncan as he shakes his head at me.</p><p>“Sure.” I gulp.  “Thanks, buddy.”</p><p>"No problem," he mutters and continues on towards the bar, empty glass in hand.</p><p>I stand, and Wallace pulls off his jacket and hangs it on a hook at the end of the seat before sliding into the booth as I follow.</p><p>"So, why am I here again?"</p><p>I glance up to make sure Duncan is at the bar still before I speak. "To make sure I don't punch my best friend in the head. His roommate is putting all sorts of propaganda in his head and I need to talk him out of it."</p><p>“Propaganda? What kind of propaganda?" </p><p>I catch a glimpse of Duncan coming back from the bar out of the corner of my eye. "You'll see."</p><p>"They'll be over in a minute with our beers," Duncan says as he slides into the seat across from me. </p><p>"So, how are classes going?" I ask.  "Veronica talked to Lilly briefly today about your project. Sounds intense."</p><p>"Yeah.  There's a lot to cover. And Professor Dent is a pretty tough marker, so we need to impress her."</p><p>"Good to know.  I think we have her next semester," Wallace states.</p><p>A burly looking guy in a plaid shirt steps to the end of our table, carrying four beers on a tray and starts setting them down. We each grab one, and I frown at the last one left standing as I thank the server.  His only reply is a grunt as he walks away. </p><p>"Who's the fourth for?"</p><p>"Piz. He should be finishing this set soon."</p><p>"Great." I manage to get the words out without sounding sarcastic.</p><p> We pause to all take a sip of our beers, and I watch Duncan eyeing Wallace.</p><p>"So you're partnered too, Wallace?" Duncan points to Wallace's ring and smiles. "Congrats."</p><p>"Thanks, man. Baby on the way too, so I won't get many nights out in a few months." Wallace laughs.</p><p>"It's going well then." Duncan nods. "That's good."</p><p>Wallace shrugs and tosses me a little frown then turns to Duncan again. "Sure is. But why wouldn't it?"</p><p>"No reason. I just overheard the guys in front of me at the bar complaining about their partners, so it's good you guys are making it work. </p><p>Once again, Wallace frowns at me, and I can read the look: <em> what is with this guy? </em> </p><p>"Maybe they're just letting off steam, Duncan." I jump in before he says something that makes Wallace want to punch him too. "It's hard to balance figuring out how to live with someone and school, while confined in tight spaces. They're probably just commiserating on the challenges."</p><p>"Both Logan and I are pretty lucky dudes, though," Wallace adds with a chuckle. "We were paired with two smart ladies who know how to put up with our human failings—by pestering us until we stop doing it."</p><p>"Yeah.  Really lucky." Duncan brings the beer up to his lips and takes a long drink. </p><p>"Complaining about each other, I think, is part of being in a relationship," I add. "Just as long as it's not hateful or mean spirited."</p><p>The memory of Veronica kissing me gently, in penance for stealing and chewing on one of my pens this afternoon, distracts me from Duncan.</p><p>At that precise moment, Piz decides to show up and I don't know if I'm more irritated by his interruption of my thoughts or just his general presence.</p><p>"Hey, good set," Duncan states as he moves over for Piz in the booth. He jerks his chin towards us. "This is Wallace, Logan's buddy.” </p><p>"Cool. Nice to meet you." Instead of extending his hand in greeting, Piz grabs his beer and takes a long swig. "Man, it's hot up there under the lights."</p><p>"Nice to meet you too." Wallace shakes his head and takes a long sip of his beer, keeping his eyes on me.</p><p>I down the rest of my beer and reach out as the bartender walks past. He stops, and I pull my stipend card from my wallet and hand it to him. "Another round for my friends and me, please."</p><p>Another grunt and he walks off, and I wonder if he's going to charge me extra because I jumped the bar queue or just toss my stipend card in the garbage disposal.</p><p>“Well, for what it's worth, I'm happy that things are working out for you and Veronica. She seems pretty happy."</p><p>I'm taken aback by Duncan's words. He doesn't look me in the eye as he says them though, which makes me think that he may not actually believe what he's saying.</p><p>"I appreciate it, Duncan. Really."</p><p>"You're both unmatched?" Wallace asks, glancing between Piz and Duncan. </p><p>"Yes. For now." A wry smile crosses Piz's face. "But unlike some, we're taking our fate into our own hands." </p><p>"Oh? Really." I lean towards Piz across from me and put my elbows on the table. "How are you going to do that?"</p><p>Piz exchanges glances with Duncan and Duncan nods his approval, leaning in towards Logan.</p><p>"Piz introduced me to a group of like-minded people—C.H.A.D.—where people who haven't been partnered yet can meet and discuss politics and music and art and exchange ideas." </p><p>"Pardon me,"  Wallace stifles a chuckle behind his fist. "What exactly does C.H.A.D. stand for?"</p><p>"Choices for Humans Against Databases," Duncan replies, devoid of any humour. "We believe that a database filled with our human profiles should not be making life decisions for us—that our personal freedom to choose a life partner or partners supersedes any excuses the government makes to create the illusion that <em> Orwell </em> is correct."</p><p>Wallace looks at me and presses his lips together, obviously trying to suppress a laugh or a grin.  Instead, he takes a sip of his beer.</p><p>The bartender returns and tosses my stipend card in front of me before placing down the beers and turning to leave. </p><p>"Thanks, man!" I call out after him in the hopes he doesn't spit in our next round.</p><p>"So, you guys are out to find partners yourselves," I state. "And then what? Force the government to change its policy and let you participate in unions?"</p><p>"No!  We live outside the government policy and reject any further matches." Piz explains. "We cohabitate until that time that the government recognizes our ability to make choices for our matches."</p><p>"And there are...how do I put this...<em> willing women </em> participating in this?" I ask, a little shocked by the knowledge that there is a hook-up party masquerading as a political discussion group operating on campus.</p><p>"There are!" Duncan states emphatically. "Well, two women anyway."</p><p>"And how many men?" Wallace asks.</p><p>Duncan shrugs. "Dunno.  Probably about thirty."</p><p>I rub my eyes with my palms and cringe. There is so much that is problematic about this entire scenario that my brain can't land on something to say right away.</p><p>"Have either of these women gone on a date with either of you?" Wallace questions, not even trying to hide his incredulous tone.</p><p>"No. But the girls said they had some friends they want to bring along.  The guy who runs the group...Gory Sorokin...is dating one of the women," Duncan answers.</p><p>I down the rest of my beer as quickly as I can.  I can't take this anymore.  We haven't been here that long, but I can't deal with the sheer stupidity of my friend.</p><p>Piz drinks the rest of his beer and stands, patting me on the shoulder and smiling.  "Thanks for the beer.  Gotta start my next setlist.  Hope you like it."</p><p>I want to punch him for touching me, but I choose to force a tight smile across my face. "Yeah.  Take it easy, Piz." </p><p>As soon as he's across the Pub, I turn back to Duncan and scowl. "Dude. You can't be serious about this C.H.A.D. thing."</p><p>"Why not?  Why should I wait until some computer matches me with my <em> perfect </em>mate when I can go and find her myself?"</p><p>"Because while you're pining for one of two available women, <em> Orwell </em> could match you, and you could blow it by rejecting her for some stupid dream of finding someone this way."</p><p>Duncan tosses back a long sip of his beer and wipes the residue from his lips from the back of his hand. "Maybe because I want to actually be in love with the person I spend the rest of my life with, that's why."</p><p>"What the hell are you implying?" I hiss through clenched teeth.</p><p>"Veronica may put up with you and put on a happy facade, but there's no way you're in love."</p><p>I grip my pint glass so hard I think it might break so I try to relax my hand slightly, although I’m worried that if I unclench too much, I'll give in to the temptation to make a fist and knock Duncan's teeth out.</p><p>"Well, here's a newsflash for you, Duncan, but I do love Veronica. And not because I have to because she's my partner, but because I <em> want </em> to. I am madly, deeply, and very passionately in love with Veronica Mars. And I know you <em> think </em> you were in love with her in high school but that was all in your head and all one-sided. She doesn't love you. She cares about you as a friend, just like I do, and she's as worried about these crazy things you're saying as much as I am." I take a breath to even my rising voice back to a normal volume. "But I'm telling you right now, I love Veronica and if you ever disrespect her or our partnership by talking out of turn about us, I will punch you so hard it will knock the memory of our friendship right out of your brain."</p><p>For a second, Duncan holds my gaze, and I wonder if he has the balls to strike me first. Instead, he lifts the pint glass to his lips and downs the rest of his beer, slamming the glass on the tabletop.</p><p>"Fine." Duncan sneers as he grabs his jacket and slides across the bench and stands at the end of the table.</p><p>"Don't be like this, Duncan…." I jump up and grab him by the arm. "This is ridiculous. Just please, think about what you're doing. Think about how many years we've been friends. Think about who your <em> true </em> friends are. Please.  Don't let this come between our friendship."</p><p>He wrenches his arm from my grasp, tossing me a look that wavers between disdain and wounded. Dropping my arms to my side, I brace myself for a punch, but he just turns and skulks off towards the other side of the room.  I watch as he takes a table near the stage, positioning himself to face Piz, his back to me.</p><p>A dull ache of regret settles into my belly. How the hell am I supposed to be a politician? I can't even be diplomatic with my best friend.  Scratch that...my <em> former </em>best friend.</p><p>With a deep sigh, I slide onto the side of the booth that Duncan vacated and face Wallace.</p><p>"That was intense."</p><p>I roll my eyes. "To put it mildly.  Do you still have that friendship bracelet? I seem to have an opening."</p><p>Wallace just laughs and slides out of the booth. "I'm going to get us another couple of beers. You sit here and start working on my bracelet while I'm gone."</p><p>I shake my head and chuckle as Wallace walks away.  Leaning back against the back of the booth, I exhale slowly, gaining control of my nerves and my thoughts.</p><p>And that's when it hits me. <em> Fuck.  I just proclaimed my love for Veronica to everyone except her. </em></p><p>"Maybe it's time to let her know too," I state to no one else but me.</p><p>  </p><hr/><p><b>Veronica</b> </p><hr/><p>Girls night. It was the perfect distraction. When Jackie asked me over tonight to hang out with her, Parker, and Mac, I jumped at the chance.  Logan and Wallace were going to be meeting Duncan at the same time at the campus pub, and I didn't want to be home alone with my thoughts. My deep, longing thoughts of Logan and what happened between us last night were consuming me today.  So much so that it was hard to be in the same room with him without wanting to drag him into bed. </p><p>When Logan kissed me goodbye tonight, my knees buckled as he lingered, and I had to grab his shoulders for support.  He must have noticed because he gripped me harder, holding me flush against his body.  And as he pulled away and told me he would meet me back here, later, I wanted to ask him to stay with me now, but instead, I just nodded in silent agreement. He had made plans with his friends, and I had with mine.  There were expectations to be met that superseded any other desires.</p><p>Now I'm nursing my second glass of wine in Jackie's living room, hoping the night goes quickly, so I can hurry home to see him.</p><p><em> God, I'm pathetic </em>.</p><p>Mac, Parker, and Jackie return down the stairs from the house tour I took last month, and I straighten on the couch and smile at the group, tucking my thoughts of Logan into the back of my brain.</p><p>"Isn't that baby room beautiful?"</p><p>Parker presses her hand to her flat belly as she sits back down in the folding chair across from me.  "Ugh.  My uterus hurts, it's so cute!" </p><p>"I'll do one for you and Logan when you join us in family housing next year," Jackie teases.</p><p>In only a month, her belly seems to have grown exponentially, and she lowers herself carefully on the other side of the couch, placing her ice water on the coffee table as she moves.</p><p>"Pft. That's not happening.  Not for a long time." I roll my eyes at the thought of us having a baby now.  "I can barely keep myself together some days, never mind a kid. You're a lot braver than me, Jackie.</p><p>"<em> Brave </em> is definitely the right word for Jackie," Mac states, taking the other folding chair by Parker.</p><p>Jackie just shrugs, calmly surveying us all. "I don't know if it's really all that brave.  I mean, it's not like I'm fighting in a war or anything.  But when it feels right, you just know it's right.  You know?"</p><p>"Yes. And when it's not right, you know too," interjects Parker. "As in my case. I still feel like I dodged a bullet with Mercier."</p><p>I take another sip of my wine. "Yes, but what if you're not sure?"</p><p>Mac frowns at me across the coffee table. "You mean, not sure about the person you're partnered with?"</p><p>"No.  Yes." All eyes are now on me as I sigh.  "I don't know.  I mean, Jackie, when you first met Wallace, did you feel like you were <em> in love </em>with him from the start?"</p><p>Jackie giggles, shaking her head. "Oh, God, no!  I mean, he was cute and funny and there was that little spark of attraction when we first met as partners, but I didn't fall in love with him.  Not right away, anyway."</p><p>"But you are in love with him now?"</p><p>"Yes.  I am.  It took some time for us, but yeah, I can honestly say that I love him."</p><p>"Veronica...are you saying you're not in love with Logan?" Parker asks quietly.</p><p>"I...I don't know." The confession comes from nowhere, brought on by my confusion and some wine. "I guess it seems so unbelievable to me that I could be in love with this guy I've known for years that I don't trust my feelings right now."</p><p>"I felt the same way with Wallace.  I mean, we weren't really friends, but I knew of him and saw him play basketball a few times, so I just thought he was this jock who cared more about scoring points than academic life," Jackie says, reaching out to place her hand gently on my arm. "It sounds so strange that we would choose to have a child together, without being in love first, but there was this part of me that always believed that eventually, we would be in love."</p><p>"But that's it...how did you <em> know </em> ? Was it instinct? Was it a premonition? Or was it just blind faith that <em> Orwell </em> knows what the hell it's doing? Because when Logan was partnered with me, I was sure the computer had lost its mind, but now I'm not too sure."</p><p>"It was a feeling.  A deep, deep feeling that when we met that everything would work out, in the end," Jackie replies, soft and wistful. "You know, when we got together to discuss our partnership, he made me laugh three times in our short visit. And I have to tell you, before him, I was much more serious, more focused on my studies. But he made me laugh, and I thought that I would be happy laughing with him for the rest of my life."</p><p> The room goes quiet, and I feel all eyes on me again, as if waiting for some magical words of wisdom to fly from my mouth as well.</p><p>"Veronica?  How did you feel when you met Logan?"  Parker leans forward, her hand stretching across the table to rest on my knee. "It's okay.  You can share it with us." </p><p>I blink, and the feeling of Logan kissing my head so tenderly at our union ceremony appears for a moment and then disappears.</p><p>"We actually met when we were twelve and were good friends for years before we were chosen. I think that's part of my problem….I'm still not over the shock that my friend has become my partner."</p><p>"But Veronica, that's great!" Jackie says.  "Wallace and I had to learn to be friends, but you were already there."</p><p>"I know...I just…." The words are on the tip of my tongue, and I force myself to say them out loud. "I never thought I would fall in love with Logan Echolls."</p><p>"Veronica, if you’re in love with Logan, then you’re definitely one of the lucky ones who can say that about your partnership."  Parker adds. "My parents were part of the first wave of partnerships, and I don't think they ever learned to be friends.  They just <em> exist </em> together, you know?  Like, they get along, but I don't think they have ever been friends or really were ever in love.  I mean, they love me, they love my sister, but there's kind of nothing there between them.  That's part of the reason why I rejected Mercer—I just felt that he was never going to be someone I could be a friend and a lover to or with."</p><p>Taking a large sip of my wine, I point at Parker. "See, now that's another thing...Logan and I are friends, it's the lover part that we need to get to."</p><p>"What?!"</p><p> A collective gasp rises from everyone, and I blush.  Once again, I've said too much.  Damn.</p><p>"Wait.  Are you saying you haven't had sex with Logan?" Mac waves her hands in the air at me like she's trying to conjure up something.</p><p>"Technically, no. We've been fooling around, but we haven't gone all the way." I shrug, slightly ashamed to be admitting this to everyone.</p><p>"Is it because you don't feel <em> that way </em> about him?" Mac leans into the conversation, her elbows on her knees.</p><p>"Oh, gosh, no.  I mean, don't get me wrong.  I <em> want </em> to have sex with him. We just wanted to wait until...until we were <em> in love </em>...before we did anything about it."</p><p>"Awwww…." Parker clutches her chest, her pink lips pursing. "That's so romantic. Like, old novel romantic." </p><p>Romantic. I guess in the end, I didn't lose all my romantic notions about what this partnership could be.  They just shifted slightly to fit the situation.</p><p>"Yeah.  I guess it is kind of romantic." The heat rises in my cheeks, and I take another sip of wine.</p><p>"So, you've told us you love him, you obviously want to have sex with him, what's stopping you?" Jackie asks.</p><p>"Me. It's me. He's waiting for me to tell him we can take it further, and so far, I haven't even admitted my true feelings for him." I put my glass down and cover my face with my palms. "Fuck. I mean, what if he doesn't say it back?"</p><p>"Veronica.  I hate to tell you this, but it sounds to me like you're making this much more complicated than it needs to be. You're overthinking it, big time." Mac laughs, taking another sip of her wine. "You're partners already, and every time I've had lunch with you guys, Logan keeps looking at you like you have a damn rainbow halo over your head. I'm no expert, but I'd say your fear that he won't say it back is slim to none."</p><p>"She's right, Veronica. I mean, I would kill to have a partner that looks at me like Logan looks at you, and Wallace looks at Jackie," Parker concurs, glancing between us.</p><p>"Wait? How does Wallace look at me?"  Jackie chuckles. </p><p>"Like you're carried around by a small cloud from heaven." Mac grasps her breast, dramatically lifting her hand in the air and gazing off into the room.</p><p>We all erupt in a fit of laughter, which comes to an immediate halt as the sound of the lock turning breaks through our noise. All eyes turn to the front door as Wallace enters the room, followed by Logan.</p><p>"Sounds like we're interrupting quite the party in here," Wallace chuckles.</p><p>Logan catches my eye, his smile downright bashful before he shifts and looks down at his shoes, and my stomach does a little flip in response to his presence.</p><p>"You guys are home early.  I figured a bunch of guys at a bar meant you'd be out all night," Jackie states.</p><p> Wallace pulls off his shoes and drops them by the front door, but Logan makes no move to stay, instead choosing to lean back against the front door and shove his hands in his jacket pocket. </p><p>"Well, for one thing, there is definitely a plot to keep us from spending all our stipend money on beer —they water it down so much it's like drinking glorified iced tea," Logan says. "I had four, and it feels like I had one lite beer. </p><p>Coming around behind the girls, Wallace makes his way to Jackie and leans down, giving her a quick peck on the lips in greeting before sitting on the flat arm of the couch. </p><p>"And second, the DJ stunk," he laughs, pointing at Logan.</p><p>I look from Wallace to Logan.  "Oh, no.  What happened with Piz?" </p><p>"Piz?!  I know that guy!" Parker cries out, punctuating her remark with a sharp laugh. "We have Professional Communications together.  Do you remember last week, Jackie? That guy who usually sits in the back and sulks. He's the one who hit on me after class by saying Orwell <em> didn </em>'t partner us for a reason, so we could find each other 'the old fashioned way.'" </p><p>"Ugh.  Yes!  Him!" Jackie points across to Parker. "He's also the one who wanted to feel my belly on the first day of classes, and I had to smack his hand away."</p><p>Logan scratches the stubble on his cheek and shakes his head. "Let's just put it this way...Piz is not the charmer he thinks he is."</p><p>I let out a deep sigh and stand, wandering towards Logan. When he sees me approach, he stands straighter and opens his arms, allowing me to walk right in. He kisses my forehead and wraps his puffy jacket arms around me, and I mentally melt into his being so near.</p><p>"It was a little intense at the Pub, so Wallace and I figured we would come here, and you and I could walk home together. Get some crisp night air and talk."</p><p>Oblivious to everyone else, I rise on my toes and give him a soft peck on the lips, causing the room to hoot and holler at us.</p><p>"Get a room!" Wallace shouts with a laugh.</p><p>"We have one! It's tiny! We like yours better!" Logan tosses back, squeezing me closer to him.</p><p>"You're welcome anytime," Jackie adds. "Now get out!"</p><p> I can't hold back my laughter, and when I turn in Logan's arms, I catch Jackie’s wink at me, jerking her chin up towards Logan.  As everyone continues to laugh, she mouths the words…</p><p><em> Tell him </em>. </p><p>My response is a small nod before I extract myself from Logan's embrace, taking a step towards the closet to retrieve my jacket.  </p><p>I <em> will </em> tell him how I feel.  Tonight.  Just as soon as I figure out <em> how. </em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Consider this my "Friday" update for this week, posted early, as I'm headed into the forest with no wi-fi.  Enjoy all!</p>
<p>Extra special thanks to my beta Irma66 for helping me get this mammoth chapter ready sooner than later.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Logan</strong>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>Even though it's dark outside, the sky is filled with grey clouds that seem backlit by pink, and it's so breathtaking that I pause on Wallace and Jackie's front porch to take it in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Veronica pulls her hood over her head and steps close to me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"We don't get clouds like that in California."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"No. We don't. Wallace thinks it's going to snow tonight," I state as I wrap my arm around her waist.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It is?" Her eyes light up. "I've never seen snow before."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Neither have I.  Unless fake snow on a movie set counts."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Veronica claps her hands excitedly, her warm breath turning to white vapor in the chill of the night air. "Let's stay outside for a little while and see if we can catch some.  Please?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her excitement is adorable, and I pivot to face her, kissing the tip of her nose. She wrinkles it and laughs, wrapping her arms around me. I want to take her home and tell her I love her so badly, but she's so happy that I'm content for now to continue that feeling.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Sure. If you're warm enough." I pull my hood over my head as well and breathe hard into the air, seeing my breath change in front of my eyes. "I know a place we can go."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She reaches behind her to take my hand, linking her fingers into mine. When she looks back up at me, her eyes catch the soft light and twinkle, radiating happiness. I bring her hand up to my lips to kiss the back of it, and she sighs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Your lips are so warm," Veronica murmurs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I take that as an invitation to lean in and kiss her, softly, tenderly, and she responds, moving closer to me. For a moment, we linger before I pull away, now sufficiently warmed from head to toe from our connection.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Come on. We don't want Wallace and Jackie to open the door and find us making out on their stoop."  I take her hand and guide her down the stairs as she laughs and follows.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Why not?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Because Wallace will never let me forget it," I answer, guiding us down the lit path, in the opposite direction from our dorms.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She takes a few quick steps and catches up to me, keeping a firm grip on my hand. The light from the tall lamps cast soft shadows along the concrete and, with the grey sky, add a warm feeling that we are in a giant cocoon, safe from the outside world, even if the temperature was dropping.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"So, how did things go with Duncan?" she asks solemnly. "Did you get through to him?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I purse my lips and shake my head. "I don't know. He told us he's part of some political group now that believes in choosing their own partners. Except the ratio is thirty guys to two eligible women, and it's all kinds of messed up. Actually, it's twenty-nine to one because apparently one of the women is with the leader of the group."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"There's something not quite right about that," she says, her other hand coming up to wrap around my arm as we walk. "I mean if polyamory is your gig, then that's fine. Even if you reject your match just to stay single and hook up on the sly, who am I to judge? But Logan, that kind of sounds like the women are...bait."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A chill not associated with the cold runs down my spine. Prostitution had been legal for two decades now, but there were still rumours of those who liked the thrill of being outside of the law. If Duncan had gotten wrapped up in a group of human traffickers, he was definitely on his way to a life as the cleanup crew for the radiation zone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Shit.  Veronica, I never even thought about that." I shove my free hand in my pocket, my eyes cast down towards the concrete as we walk. "I tried to get him to think about what he was doing, but I don't know if I was successful.  I guess time will tell."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I hope he comes around, Logan. Maybe I can call Lilly, and she can talk to him?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"No. We shouldn't get her involved. She has her own life and Sabrina to worry about. Duncan's an adult now, and he should figure out how to take care of himself."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I guess…"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She falls silent as we continue to walk, following the path under the old oak trees, bare of their leaves, standing like skeletons as a reminder that other old buildings once stood around them, but were replaced by more modern infrastructure, cold and concrete.  When we pass the design department building, I take a right off the path onto the grass, and we continue to walk as the lights get dim.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It's this way. I stumbled on it when I got lost in the first week of school."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Wow, you really got lost, didn't you?" Veronica squeezes my arm a little tighter as only ambient light from the buildings guiding our way.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yes, well, I took a shortcut back here to get over to the humanities building.  I was only a few buildings off."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>We turn another corner, and there is a wooden covered gazebo near a clump of trees. Solar lights attached to the posts around it cast a soft glow into the night. It's shaped like a giant hexagon, and the open roof goes to a peak in what looks like a Japanese pergola-influenced design.  As we approach, Veronica grips my arm tightly, and I guide her up the steps.  There's a bench that runs along the edge, and I lead her to sit, so we face the cluster of trees. Letting go of her hand, I wrap my arm around her shoulders, and she slides closer to me, raising her eyes to the sky.  I glance above us at the grey and pink clouds again and wonder how long until they'll open.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"This is beautiful, Logan."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I found out it was some sort of project by the design students a few years ago. Which is why it's just kind of sitting here in the middle of nowhere."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Thank you for showing me." Her head rests on my shoulder, and I pull her closer to me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This is it. Tell her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I open my mouth, but as I do, my back starts to tingle—my scars. If I tell her, this means I'm committing to taking this relationship further.  That means everything. She's going to know everything about me. About my family.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Instead, I kiss the top of her hood and press my cheek to the puffy nylon fabric. I don't know if I'm ready to let her see who I really am, hiding underneath the layers of lies and baggage. When she said yes to our union, she didn't know that she was committing to someone like me and now, on the brink of sharing my heart with her, I don't know if she could care enough about me to work through that kind of deceit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Veronica shifts from under me and I straighten in my seat as she looks up, removing her hood from her head. The way she's looking at me has me frozen—like she's analyzing me, scanning me for details unknown.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"What?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her hand reaches for my cheek, and I pull back my hood, a shock of cold air, making me feel more alert suddenly. As she studies me, her thumb brushes gently, back and forth, against my skin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I was just thinking. If the <em>Orwell</em> system wasn’t around to place us together, would we still have found one another?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I can't help but chuckle and shake my head. "No. But not because of you, because of me."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Really?  Why would you say that?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I cover her hand with mine and turn to kiss her palm. "Because I wouldn't have thought that I deserved a woman like you."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh." Her hand slips away as she rises, walking towards the middle of the gazebo and then stops, glancing up at the sky. "Then, I guess it's a good thing that Orwell is smarter than either of us."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I stand to follow her, and she swivels toward me, looking up with glassy eyes like she's about to cry.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Duncan got into my head, and I started to doubt myself and what I was beginning to feel," she continues, blinking back the first sign of a tear. "But then I realized that maybe, through genetics or personality or just dumb luck, Orwell saw something in both of us that we may never have seen because we were too focused on ourselves."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A tiny snowflake drifts down between us and lands on Veronica's nose, and for a second, she's distracted from her thoughts. Her face morphs from sadness to joy as we both look up to see tiny twinkling specks falling down on us from the sky. A giggle of glee escapes her as the little white flakes reach us, sticking to our jackets, but when I focus back on her eyes, tears are now falling freely down her cheeks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"And maybe it knows better because right now, Logan, there is no one on the planet I'd rather be sharing my first snowfall with." A small gasp escapes her, and her hand moves to her heart. "Because I love you."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At this moment, nothing else matters. Nothing.  How we got here means nothing. The fact that we are here together now is all that counts. Fuck it. Fuck my family. Fuck Duncan. Veronica is all that matters to me now.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reaching out, I cradle her cheek, feeling the warm, wet tears against my palm.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"That's good. Because I love you too, Veronica. I love you more than I ever thought it was possible to love another human being."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She gasps again as if relieved, and I cradle her other cheek, watching the warm air condense into cold as she breathes. All of my defenses are down and for the first time in my life, I am filled with a joy I never thought was possible.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And as the snow swirls around us, I lean down to kiss her, letting the warmth of her love spread through my soul. I can taste the salt from her tears on my lips, and I pull her deeper into my embrace, trying to soothe her with my touch. She responds by opening her mouth, allowing me to deepen our kiss. Unlike before, it's not hungry, there is no urgency. We could stay like this all night.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A gust of wind blows past us, and she shivers in my arms, pulling away from our kiss. Her hair is coated with a thin, shimmering layer of snowflakes, and I sweep my hand over her head, brushing them off before taking her hood and pulling it gently back over her head for warmth. With her face peeking out from the oval of her hood, Veronica looks up, blinking away the tiny snowflakes caught in her eyelashes and I can’t help but lean down again and kiss the tip of her red, cold nose.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Logan, take me home.” Her voice is as soft as the evening surrounding us and filled with sincerity. “Take me home and make love to me as if it’s our Union Night.  Please.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Taking her cold hand, I bring her palm up to my lips and kiss it before cradling it in my hand, slipping my fingers between hers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“All right, Veronica. I’ll take you home.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Together, we make our way through the dusting of snow now covering the grass, wandering back to the path that will take us back to the warmth of our dorm.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Veronica</strong>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>By the time we get home, the hallway to the dormitory is quiet, except for the gentle noise of voices coming from behind closed doors as we walk. The closer we get to our door, the more my legs feel like they’re going to give out, and when I stop to fish my keys out from my purse, my hand shakes a little.  Logan’s arm wraps around my waist as he pulls down my hood, planting a soft kiss on my cheek from behind and for a second, I forget what I was doing. Turning my head to him, I offer him my lips next, and he obliges me with another kiss before retreating again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I finally find my keys and unlock the door as he loosens his grip on me, and I step inside, Logan following close behind.  The blinds are open slightly, and from the doorway, I can see the twinkling snow falling in the ambient light from the walkways outside. It illuminates our room in a soft glow, and I hesitate to turn on the lights, captivated by the stillness that has migrated in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I hear the door lock behind me, and my whole body tingles in anticipation of what may happen next.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t turn on the lights. The room is too beautiful to disturb,” he whispers, and I hear him unzip his jacket.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I’m frozen to my spot, my eyes fixed on the window as the snow falls. “You’re right. It is beautiful.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His hands come around me again, this time to reach for my jacket zipper, and he brings it down slowly, the sound filling the space. When it reaches the bottom, he slides it from my shoulders and steps to the closet to hang it up. I take a moment to toe-off my soaking wet shoes and move further into the room, turning to face him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So? What now?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stepping towards me, he rubs his cheek, a grin spreading across his face. “Well, I was thinking of making love to you all night, if that’s an acceptable plan for you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I rise on my toes and drape my arms over his shoulders, my fingers trailing up his neck to thread through his hair. “I think that you just need to add continuing on through tomorrow to that thought.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A guttural groan of satisfaction rises in him, and he punctuates it with a chuckle. “I’ll try my very best to keep up with your needs, Veronica.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The tip of my nose reaches his and I hesitate, relishing the blissful feeling fluttering through my body. “What I need, Logan, is you.  Only you.  Now, and for the rest of our lives.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His lips skim lightly over mine, teasing me before intensifying our kiss as he pulls me against him, the warmth of his body taking the last of the night chill from my skin. In my mind, I want him to go slowly, but my body seems to have other plans as a rush of heat spreads from my core in anticipation of him as we continue to kiss, his hands gripping my hips.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>We’ve kissed for too long—too many days and weeks. Tonight I want more than just soft kisses.  I want it all.  And as I step away from his embrace, backing up towards the bed, I know that I have to show him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Where are you going?” He quirks his eyebrow at me as his eyes run down my body.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With one quick motion, I pull my tight sweater over my head and toss it on the ground, finally revealing the black lace bra I bought for our Union Night, and his mouth opens in unmistakable shock.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m just getting a little more comfortable,” I tease, my hand popping the top button of my jeans.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Logan follows and unexpectedly drops to his knees in front of me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Let me help you with that,” he murmurs, placing a soft kiss beside my navel.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>My words catch in my throat, and I swallow, hard, looking down at his mischievous grin as he stares back up at me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If...if you like…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He drops another kiss just under my navel, and I gasp as his fingers pull back the opening to my jeans and ever so slowly pulls down the zipper. Warmth pools again between my thighs, and I force my body to stand perfectly still, even if I’m feeling wobbly inside. When he pauses, I want to scream, call out his name, beg him to do something because the anticipation has me so on edge I may spontaneously combust just from his breath near my belly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Black lace on the bottom too,” he says and spreads my fly far enough to kiss my pelvis just above the line of the boy-cut panties.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gathering myself, I run my fingers through his hair and smile down at him. “Just for you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That seems to have caught him off guard because he freezes, staring up at me, and I continue to stroke his hair.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well then, if it’s just for me.” He refocuses and slips his hands through the opening, skimming between the jeans and the lace and I gasp as he pushes my pants down to my ankles.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I can now feel his breath through the lace and I wiggle with anticipation. Planting small kisses to the fabric, he presses ever so slightly into my mound and a soft moan rumbles in my chest, my fingers tightening in his hair. When he opens his mouth, cupping me with his lips, and exhales gently, his tongue grazing the lace, I fight to keep my knees from buckling.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Easing himself away from me, he rocks back onto his heels. “God, Veronica, just the smell of you is making me hard.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I glance down and see him adjust himself. Placing my hands on his cheeks, I bend over and kiss his lips.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I bend all the way down and push my pants and socks off, stepping out of them and turning away from him, closer to the bed, in a deliberate move to show how good my ass looks in these panties. As I consider what to do next, he rises behind me, pressing into my back, one hand sliding up to cup my breast, the other cradling my sex. When his lips brush the junction of my neck, my knees really do buckle, and I sink into his palm. His fingers inch past the edge of the the thin fabric between my thighs, and I moan as he nips at my neck.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re already wet,” he whispers, his fingers pushing the lace further to the side as he parts my lips underneath.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am.  This is what you do to me now, Logan.” I arch into him, and he responds by pinching my nipple, rolling it between his fingers, and I cry out in ecstasy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do you like that? Is it too hard?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I buck back into him, my ass catching the bulge in his jeans, and he moans. “It’s just right. Keep doing that.  Please, Logan.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He momentarily removes his hand from my breast, bringing it up to his lips. Opening his mouth, his tongue flicks the pads of his thumb and index finger before returning them to the edge of my bra, pulling back the fabric to free my breast, his fingers clamping back down on my sensitive flesh and rolling my hard nipple between. The small shock of pain gives way to pleasure trickling through every nerve in my body.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I glance back, and Logan catches my lips with his, and I moan into this mouth. His tongue finds mine, as he responds to my moan with his own. Slowly, his fingers move up under my panties, his long middle finger finding my clit, and he presses down, sending another surge of pleasure through me. My gasp breaks the kiss and his lips slide down my neck again as my hips roll against him creating delicious friction against his finger. When my ass moves against him, I can feel him straining against the fly of his jeans, and I push my body to his so he’s forced to move with me. As he rocks, I close my eyes and imagine him naked against me. It takes all my strength to pull myself from him, and he lets go with no resistance as I turn in his arms, grabbing the hem of his t-shirt and pulling it high up his chest. Understanding my intent, he takes it and pulls it over his head as my hands shift to the buckle of his belt. The sound of metal on metal makes him flinch, and he closes his eyes, his arms dropping to stroke my hair as I work the clasp, releasing his belt, before popping the top button of his jeans. My fingers graze the trail of hair leading down from his navel and his abs clench as I continue down, pulling his zipper down over his cock, straining at his black underwear beneath.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stepping back slightly, I pause before pushing his underwear and pants down, and his cock springs free, and I lick my lips, remembering the salty taste of him on my tongue from the night before. Biting my lip, I try to hold back the grin pulling across my face. When my fingers skim the top of his shaft, he twitches, and I continue, my touch lightly brushing his sensitive skin. A drop of cum appears on the head, and I stroke my thumb over before bringing it up to my mouth. His eyes lock on me as I lick the salty liquid from my finger.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fuck, Veronica,” he gasps, and I grin back at him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think I’ve developed a taste for you, Logan.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stepping out of his jeans, he advances on me, grabbing my ass as he lifts me up into the air, and my legs wrap around his waist, my hands anchoring to his shoulders. He opens his mouth, and I kiss him, sweeping my tongue across his, hoping he can still taste himself on me. When I release him, he steps closer to the bed and lowers us down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know I’ve developed a taste for you, Veronica.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When I cradle his cheeks, he kisses me again, but only for a split second before continuing to my neck, pausing to suck my skin, and I moan in appreciation. He moves on, trailing little kisses down my chest to my exposed nipple, and I arch with need as he approaches.  His hand slips behind my back to unclasp my bra, then he quickly pulls it off my arms and tosses it off the bed. For a moment, he regards my breasts, as if choosing which one to give some attention to before selecting the right, his tongue flicking my nipple to a hard peak. His hands brace himself to hold his body just above me, and I drag my fingers across his pecs and down his sides towards his hips, feeling every ripple and edge of muscle and bone on my way towards his beautiful, tight buttocks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I groan in frustration when he suddenly releases my nipple, shifting from my intended reach to continue to plant small kisses down my belly, circling my navel, and finishing just above my panties. He pauses, and I look down to see his eyes on me, and he nods as if asking for entrance. I nod back, and he wastes no time, hooking his fingers into the side of my panties and pulling them off me as he kneels on the floor beside the bed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Then, he pauses, kneeling in the light from the window in the darkened room, his eyes scanning my body, and I’m suddenly overcome by what is about to happen, and my heart constricts in my chest.  I’m about to make love to the man I was partnered with. The man I’ve fallen hopelessly in love with. My eyes skim his body.  His firm pecs with the small trail of hair between them. The nearly six-pack of abs he’s been working on since he started weight-lifting. And, God help me, that cock...he’s as pretty close to perfection as a man can get.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>And he’s mine.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lowering his lips, he kisses me just above my pubic hair, and I gasp, my abs tightening under his touch, and when I look down, he’s staring back up at me again, his eyes dark with lust.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If there’s anything I’m doing that hurts you or…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“...I’ll tell you, Logan. I promise.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His fingers slip between my folds, running the length of my lips, and I arch under his touch.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good. Because the last thing I want to do is hurt you...in any way. I love you so much, Veronica.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>My hand brushes his hair from his forehead, and I nod.  “I love you too, Logan. I love you more than my heart could ever have imagined.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He places another kiss on me, identical to the last before his fingers spread my folds. When he places his lips on my inner lips, I gasp as he continues to plant tiny kisses on my tender skin.  When his tongue caresses me, I can’t stifle my cry of pleasure.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s right, Veronica…” he murmurs, licking me again. “Make all the noise you want.  I want to hear how much pleasure I’m giving you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His tongue finds my clit, and I call out again, followed by a deep guttural moan as he gently pulls back the hood and flicks my clit rapidly with the tip of his tongue. The noise that escapes me is barbaric.  Primal. And I close my eyes, focusing all my senses on the pleasure that’s now coursing through my veins.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Two of his fingers press gently on me, sliding easily inside, and I pull my knees up to hook my feet on the edge of the bed, giving him access to go deeper.  The feeling of him sliding in and out of me is too much stimulation, and I writhe against him, looking for relief from the orgasm that teeters just on edge.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Logan. Please.  I need more.  Please….” I whimper, bucking towards him, demanding more.  God, I don’t even recognize my own voice anymore.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His response is to remove his two fingers and add a third, and the feeling of fullness as I stretch against his digits is precisely what I need.  My voice is high and loud, a series of unintelligible words and gasps as he works me faster and faster, the sloppy sound of my cum filling the room, until...</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, God!  Logan….”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A flash of white light behind my eyes and a rush of pleasure makes me arch as I scream, my body shaking as I cum hard and wet around his fingers and mouth.  He stills his fingers against my pulsing, but his tongue continues to move against my clit slowly, coaxing more and more. My orgasm is now relentless, the first wave giving way to another smaller wave and then another until it’s all too much, and I grab his shoulder with my fingers and dig into his skin, unable to find my words.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He gets my message and releases me immediately, wiping my glistening cum from his mouth as he looks down at me with concern.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I'm….fine…” I gasp.  “Just...so much…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Logan chuckles and maneuvers himself to lay beside me on his side, propping himself upon his arm.  He leans over and gives me a deep kiss, and I can smell the musky scent of myself on him.  Rolling towards him, I wrap my naked body around his, trapping his hard cock between us. His arm slides underneath me, and with a quick roll, he pulls me on top of him, and I shriek with laughter, my legs dropping, so I now straddle his waist.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, that’s why it’s your turn to take control,” he says, his hand grasping my breast, the pad of his thumb moving gently back and forth across my nipple.  “When you’re ready.  You can control it all—the depth, the pressure.  If it hurts, you can back off, and we can get some lube and try again or stop altogether. It’s all in your hands.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I wriggle against his skin, feeling myself slide against him. “I don’t think lube will be a problem, thanks to you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He grins up at me as I press my hands to his pecs, enjoying just looking down at his smiling face for a moment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Always at your service.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I grasp his cheeks as I lower myself to kiss him again, lingering this time, taking my time to nip at his lip, teasing him with my tongue, and he responds in kind, his tongue finding mine. His hands clench my ass, gently kneading my skin and my hips press down on him, my core now flush with him. We stay just like this, kissing and touching, as need builds in me again. A ravenous, unbridled need in the pit of my stomach to have him as close to me as humanly possible.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rising up from him, I push myself higher on my knees, grasping his hard cock firmly, positioning him under me.  When I run the head through my wetness, he gasps, his eyes rolling back slightly.  Slowly, I lower myself down, the tip of his cock now just between my lips, and I resist the urge to drop all my weight down at once. His eyes meet mine, and he nods, his hands gripping my hips.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I ease myself further as he slides deep inside of me, savouring the feel of my muscles parting to take his girth. When I finally take the whole of his length in me, I pause, my pelvis flush against his, marvelling at the sensation of feeling full of him. I catch his eye again, and his fingers squeeze my hips holding me in place.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Just...give me a minute…" he gasps, his face flush with excitement. "I want this to last."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Biting my lip, I lean towards him, his cock shifting inside of me, and he moans when I still, bracing myself in front of him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I want it to last too. I like having you inside of me. Having you this close just feels right."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Logan groans and lifts his head to kiss me quickly before returning to lay on the bed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I promise you, after this, I will make every effort to be in you as often as possible."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His hands loosen, and instinct takes hold of me. Slowly I roll my hips, moving ever so slightly off of him and then taking him deeper as a rush of pleasure courses through me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I'm going to hold you to that promise." I smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Logan's eyes flutter as I continue to roll, changing my angle so I'm closer to his chest, and I realize that it creates the most fantastic jolt of friction against my clit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You feel amazing, Veronica. So amazing." He stretches up for a tender kiss, and I continue to hold his lips to mine as my hips slide him easily back and forth through me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I love you, Logan," I whisper between kisses. "I love you so much."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His hand slips between us, his finger finding my clit, increasing friction to the most sensitive part of me, and I gasp into his mouth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I love you, Veronica. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life, making you happy."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>My orgasm starts to build again, faster, reaching its peak even sooner than before as my hips move up and down his shaft, faster and faster. This time, when he kisses me, it's hungry, teeth and tongues crashing together. His hand finds my nipple, and he pinches it just so, and I cry out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yes, like that.  Just like that, Logan."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I feel like a runner, sprinting towards the finish, sweat now glistening on both of our bodies. The sounds we've both making are loud and guttural, punctuated by swears and proclaiming of affections. His lips reach up and catch my neck, sucking hard on my skin, and that's when my hips fall out of pace, jerking and pulling against his cock as my orgasm hits me, hard and long, and I pulse around his cock.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Logan! Oh my God...oh my God…"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I'm sure a part of my soul has broken off and risen from my body as I continue to come, my senses blinded as I feel his cock pulsing against me, the warmth of his cum filling me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Veronica…" he gasps.  "Veronica…"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>For a moment, we both still, enjoying the endorphins coursing through both of us before I collapse onto his chest, spent.  He brushes my hair from my forehead and kisses it, chuckling.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"That was phenomenal," he gasps, trying to catch his breath.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"So...glad...we waited," I add, my heart racing in my chest next to his.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>For a minute, neither of us move, and I contemplate the idea of just closing my eyes and falling asleep on top of him like this, our bodies still connected. It isn't until he groans and rolls slightly to the side that we separate entirely, gently as I manoeuvre to the mattress. He immediately pulls me next to him into the warmth of his arms.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"We should crawl under the covers," he whispers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Hmmmm….in a minute…" I toss my arm and leg over him. "I don't want to move.  Not yet."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The pink has left the sky, and now only the lights from the campus are visible against the black cloudy night.  Our room is still and calm.  It's all out in the open now.  There is no skirting around the issue, no hidden feelings—only love. There is only love between us now.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Logan</strong>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>When the chill of the room finally becomes unbearable, we retreat under the blankets, still naked, and the warmth of our bodies is wonderful. We find ourselves in the middle of the bed, me on my back and Veronica with her head on my chest, her body wrapped around mine, and I quietly hope this is the new way she wants to fall asleep together.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I look down at her to find her looking up at me, her eyes have a twinkle of happiness through the glistening of tears on her lashes. This is it.  This is what love truly is. My heart is filled with a joy I have never felt. To be loved by someone you love is like a miracle to me. And I am going to work hard to make sure she knows how much I love her in return.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sweeping her hair from her face, a smile spreads across my lips. "I promise you, Veronica...I will spend every day of our lives, showing you how much I love you."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rising to me, she brushes her lips tenderly across mine. "I promise you, Logan, that I will spend every day reminding you of my love."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I can't help but return to our kiss, deepening our connection, as our bodies tangle together, trying to become one again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Finally, someone on this damn earth loves me.  Truly, loves me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 21</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: Discussion of Child Abuse (scars)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <b>Logan</b>
</p><hr/><p>I’m never leaving this bed. I’m curled around Veronica’s back while she’s asleep in my arms, even though the sun is shining and the clock says 10:24 a.m. We're blissfully naked, and I’m both exhausted and wired from last night, but she just feels so good that I’m going to stay here, even if it means never, ever leaving.  This bed is officially an island with only room for two of us, and I never want to be rescued from it.</p><p> </p><p>I feel drunk. Actually, I feel light-headed and higher than a kite. Can a person get brain damage from too much serotonin? Is it possible to have too many orgasms?  They never really covered that in any sexual health classes, but I feel if it was a thing, maybe they should have warned us?</p><p> </p><p>Fuck, I woke up hard, my cock pressed against her naked ass, but there’s no way in hell I’m going for a cold shower this morning.  From our current position, round four could take place pretty quickly if she’s up for it.  Veronica was insatiable last night, and I had to try my best to keep up with her.  At least she brought toaster waffles and peanut butter to bed at 3:00 a.m. so I’m not starving, but food and a lot of coffee will be needed shortly.</p><p> </p><p>“Mmmmm….” Veronica hums and stretches in my arms. “G’ morning.”</p><p> </p><p>It takes her a second to notice I’m hard, and she pushes her ass towards me, wiggling against me as I groan and tighten my arms around her.</p><p> </p><p>“Good morning to you, beautiful.” I kiss her neck, and she hums in appreciation again.</p><p> </p><p>“I had a dream like this last week,” she says, her fingers stroking my arms as I hold her close.</p><p> </p><p>“Really. You had a dream about us waking up naked together?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.  Except it also involved your hands all over me while we made love in this very position.”</p><p> </p><p>“You mean—” I slide one hand down between her thighs, cupping her sex as the other wanders up to cradle her breast. “Like this?”</p><p> </p><p>She grinds against my hand, and I reposition my fingers to slip between her folds and press on her clit as I knead her breast.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, like that,” she gasps, her eyes fluttering as I kiss her neck again, her body now moving in rhythm with mine. “I dreamt that you woke me up like this.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s funny.  Because I had a dream about waking up with you last week…” I murmur into her skin between kisses.  “But it involved you on all fours on our bed.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe we should split the difference,” she coos.  “Start like this and end like that?”</p><p> </p><p>I slip my fingers further through her folds, and fuck, she’s already getting wet. Before we went to bed, she had a quick shower, and she still smells clean and fresh this morning, her skin like vanilla and sugar and I resist the urge to bite her shoulder. Stroking her slowly, she moves against my fingers, and when I find her clit again, she moans.</p><p> </p><p>“I think I can manage that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good." She reaches back and finds my cock, moving her body away from me slightly so she can grip my shaft behind her. “Because what good is a dream if you can’t make it come true?’</p><p> </p><p>I groan as I move my lips up to her ear, brushing against the peak before nibbling her lobe. “If you give me permission, I’ll wake you up like this every morning.”</p><p> </p><p>“Best alarm clock, ever,” she teases, and I roll my hips, creating friction against her hand, keeping me hard.</p><p> </p><p>For a moment, we both get lost in the sensation of pleasure coursing through us, her tiny gasps and moans telling me she is more than enjoying this morning wake-up call. Shifting my hand on her breast, I roll her nipple between my thumb and index finger, and she calls out.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Logan. This is exactly how I imagined it could be.”</p><p> </p><p>The thing I realized last night about Veronica was that she liked things a little harder, a little rougher, the deeper we explored.  She is already very good about demanding how far I should take things—directing me on what she likes and doesn’t like whenever I touch her—and I am more than amiable to oblige. And the way she’s unabashedly worked my body using her hands and her mouth makes me think she went and memorized our sexual health textbook from the first word to the last.</p><p> </p><p>“I want to spend my life making every fantasy you have come true, Veronica.”</p><p> </p><p>I pinch her nipple and twist and feel her cum lubricate my fingers. I easily slide them inside of her, beginning to work her to take my cock.</p><p> </p><p>As she writhes against me, her staccato voice becomes unintelligible words and swears, punctuated by gasps, her grip on my cock more intense.</p><p> </p><p>“I love how loud you are, Veronica, when you’re riding my fingers,” I whisper in her ear. “But I want you to be louder. The sound of your voice when I’m giving you pleasure turns me on.”</p><p> </p><p>Her response is a deep, resonating moan that fills the room.  “Yes, Logan. Yes!”</p><p> </p><p>For a time, I hold her like this, working her as her hips undulate against me, my fingers getting her wetter and wetter, sensual moans echoing in our space.  I could let her play with my cock like this for hours, just keeping pleasure surging through me with no end in sight.  Suddenly, she lets go of me and tosses her leg back behind her over mine, her body now flush against me. I release her and position my cock between her lips, spread wide in invitation. Rolling myself over her outstretched leg, I bury myself deep inside her with a hard thrust, and she moans, calling out my name.</p><p> </p><p>Our hips move together, thrusting and rolling back and forth, creating intense friction between us as I continue to play with her nipples and nip at her neck.</p><p> </p><p>“I love you so much,” I murmur into her skin. </p><p> </p><p>“Logan...oh, Logan...I love you. I love you….”</p><p> </p><p>Brushing aside the waves of pleasure pushing me to come, I try and focus on her as my fingers return to her clit, pressing down hard and rubbing her with fast little circles, and she cries out loud and long, her hips jerking wildly against me.  I can hear her little pleas for release, and when I pull myself out of her, removing my hands quickly, she calls out in anger as I chuckle.  Tossing the blankets off of us, I rise on my knees, grabbing her hips, and she rolls to get on all fours, her fingers gripping the sheets as she tosses a wide grin at me over her shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“Is this how <em> your </em> fantasy started?” </p><p> </p><p>She wiggles her smooth white ass at me, and I grip her hip with one hand, my cock in the other. Her thighs spread even more, and I slip the head of my cock between her folds again, and she stops moving, her breath hitching as I give a short, quick thrust into her.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck, yes.  And it ended with you riding me until we both come.”</p><p> </p><p>I grab her hip with my free hand and pull her back on me, burying myself so deep inside of her I think I may never come out.  She arches and calls out, rocking forward and then crashing back into me, her ass cheeks slapping against my skin.  I keep my hands on her to make sure she doesn’t pull off all the way, but she can feel what she’s doing and pulls herself off just enough to leave the head of my cock in her before taking me deeply again and again.  Her voice is high and loud as she thrusts harder and harder, and our cheap bed starts to move in rhythm, crashing into the cinderblock wall.  I slip my hand past her hip and reach around to take her hard clit between my fingers and pinch the sensitive nub causing her to scream in ecstasy.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes!  Yes, Logan! Make me come.  Make me come."</p><p> </p><p>Her thrusts are frantic now, and I look down to watch myself disappear inside of her, and that’s when I allow the sensation to take hold, and suddenly, I’m about ready to burst.  But I hold on because I want her to get off first.</p><p> </p><p>When I pinch her clit harder, she cries out again, as she tosses her head back and arches into me. Her body quakes as she thrusts one more time before she stops for a split second. As her orgasm rips through her, she screams, her contracting walls grabbing my cock and pulling me deeper.  Only when I feel the rush of wetness from her orgasm do I finally let go, pulsing deep inside of her, filling her with my cum.</p><p> </p><p>“Jesus, Veronica!” I close my eyes as pleasure radiates through me.  I feel light-headed, and I grab her hip for support as I continue to drain myself in her, a flash of white light blinding me as I come harder than I’ve ever come in my life.</p><p> </p><p>She giggles, and I force my eyes to refocus to see her glowing face looking back over her shoulder at me. “Are you okay?  It looked like your soul left your body for a second.”</p><p> </p><p>“It did. It’s not called <em> le petite mort </em>for nothing.”</p><p> </p><p>When she slides off of me, I close my eyes again, dying at the loss of being connected as intimately as imaginable. Slowly, I lower myself onto my heels, trying to retrieve my senses.</p><p> </p><p>There’s a sharp knock on our door, and I lock eyes with Veronica in horror.  “Oh my God, Logan…” She rolls and sits up, pulling my pillow up against her body, as if trying to hide. There’s another knock, and she gasps. “What if we were too loud? What if that’s campus security?”</p><p> </p><p>I give my head a quick shake, trying to get my brain cells engaged again. Gingerly, I rise from the bed and steady myself before attempting to move any further. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll handle this…” I assure Veronica, trying to sound confident, but I’m still light-headed, and I waver before my knees remember how to engage. I cross to my dresser as the knocking sounds again  and I yank a pair of black boxer briefs from the drawer pulling them on as fast as I can with my brain still so foggy. </p><p> </p><p>“Hold on!” I yell as I head for the door, silently cursing whoever could be on the other side.  When I pull the door open, Duncan is there, his face beet red, his lips pursed in anger as he grips two coffee cups. For a second, I wonder how long he’s been on the other side of this door, then his nose wrinkles in disgust, and I realize when I breathe in the fresh air from the hallway that our room smells like sweat and sex, a scent now wafting out through the open door.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, good morning to you, Duncan.” I place my hand on the door frame and lean towards him. “To what do we owe this honour?’</p><p> </p><p>He shoves one of the tall paper coffee cups towards me, his lip twitching as he opens his mouth to speak. “I felt bad about how we left things last night.  I thought we could talk and salvage this friendship.  But I was wrong. You’re nothing more than a government stooge, Logan, pretending to be committed to Veronica when really it’s all about sex.  First, you defiled my sister, now you’re forcing your sexual depravity on Veronica, and it’s disgusting.”</p><p> </p><p>Taking the coffee before he can throw it at me, I place it on the counter and cross my arms, letting the door close against me to block the view into our room.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not forcing Veronica to do anything,” I state, cooly, trying to keep my voice level even though I can feel my blood pressure rising. “Everything happening in this room is (a) consensual and (b) none of your goddamn business.”</p><p> </p><p>Duncan shoots his arm out to point towards our room, coming within inches of my nose, but I don’t flinch, keeping myself as a wall between him and Veronica inside.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t tell me that what I just heard was you <em> making love </em> to the woman you love, because that’s the kind of disgusting fucking I heard when you were with Lilly,” he yells.</p><p> </p><p>I open my mouth to speak, and instead, Veronica’s voice drifts over my shoulder. “Stop it, Duncan. Just stop.”</p><p> </p><p>To my surprise, she pulls the door away from me, and I look down to see her step next to me wrapped in the old, grey blanket, her hair still curly and dishevelled from sleep and our night together, but her eyes are bright and tossing daggers at Duncan.</p><p> </p><p>“If you would rather believe the rantings of your roommate over the advice from the people that care about you, then you just need to step out of our lives. Our relationship is none of your business, especially what happens behind this closed door.”</p><p> </p><p>I glance down the hall to see everyone standing stone still, all eyes on us and our confrontation with Duncan.  Now I’m really concerned that Security will be called. Duncan’s mouth opens as if he’s about to argue, but then he closes his lips tightly, his eyes dropping to look at the floor, having been shamed by the woman he professes to <em> love. </em></p><p> </p><p>“I think he gets it.  Retract the claws, Bobcat, and let’s go back in,” I state, dropping my hand to her shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine.” She turns and stalks back into the room, leaving me to deal with Duncan.</p><p> </p><p>Sighing, I scratch the stubble on my cheek as Duncan raises his piercing dark eyes at me. There’s something in the way he’s looking at me that makes me think this is not over, not by a long shot, but instead of saying anything more, he just turns and walks silently down the hall as people step out of his way to let him pass.</p><p> </p><p>Closing the door, I lock it and press my forehead to the wood, taking a cleansing breath. This wasn’t how life was supposed to be.  Duncan was supposed to have a partner, I was supposed to have a partner. We were supposed to have dinner parties, and our partners would be friends, and we would get together for our kids’ birthdays.  He was my best friend.  He was my brother.  And now, he was gone. The fact that he was acting like a dumbass should make it easier, but somehow, it makes it worse.</p><p> </p><p>With a deep breath, I push myself away from the door and grab the paper cup as I walk back towards the bed. “Well, the good news is Duncan bought me an extra-large coffee, so we can share it.  I don’t think he’s poisoned it, but we may want the college medic on speed dial.”</p><p> </p><p>Veronica’s sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed still draped in the blanket, her eyes filled with concern.  I take a sip from the cup and sit at the edge, my hand resting on her knee.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey!  I’m only kidding...I don’t think Duncan would actually poison us…”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not that.” She shakes her head, her lips forming a tight line. “Logan...what are those scars on your back?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Oh.  Shit. </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>Veronica</b>
</p><hr/><p>“These?” he says slowly, turning a bit to show them to me again like I didn’t already see them when he was at the dresser or when I was standing behind him at the door. “They’re from an accident.”</p><p> </p><p>“An accident? What kind of accident?”</p><p> </p><p>Logan takes another quick sip of coffee, his eyes darting off to the side at something unknown, and I watch his entire body shrink and slouch, morphing from a man filled with confidence to one trying to hide in his own skin.</p><p> </p><p>“A bike accident.  I was on a production set, and I was booting down a gravel road on my bike with no shirt on and wiped out. They had to pick the rocks out of my back in the hospital.” His eyes dart back to mine briefly before standing, walking over to the kitchen, and I watch him take two mugs and start pouring the coffee between them for us.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He’s lying. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Emotion squeezes my heart—Logan’s lying to me. I know what a bike wipeout looks like because I have a scar on my leg from almost the exact same thing.  It’s on the back of my calf, and it looks like someone took a bite out of me.  The ones on his back are long with raised skin forming broken lines on his back. There are only a few, but they’re there. But the damndest thing is I know them.  I know what they’re from.  But it just can’t be…</p><p> </p><p>He returns to the bed and leans over to give me a quick kiss as he hands me my coffee, now made just how I like it.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you.”  </p><p> </p><p>I take a sip as he sits back down on the bed, still concentrating a little too hard on the coffee in his mug.  Leaning over, I place the cup on my side table and drop my hands in my lap, trying to gather the strength to say what I need to say.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s just that...they don’t look like a bike scar,” I start, quietly.  Stretching my leg out from under my blanket, I awkwardly turn my calf towards him. “See, the scar from gravel on skin leaves more of a divot.  I know because I have one too, from the same thing...I wiped out on a gravel road when I was seven years old.”  That has his attention, and he stares at my leg, his face still as he listens.  Hesitantly, I say the words I don’t want to imagine could be true.  “What those look like to me are whip marks because the skin around the cuts is raised.  I know because I saw pictures of what they did to the slaves on American plantations when I did a project on the first civil war in school. And the ones on your back look exactly like those.”</p><p> </p><p>“It was a bike,” he insists, keeping his eyes lowered.</p><p> </p><p>“Logan, please, I know you’re lying.”  </p><p> </p><p>Holding on to my blanket dress, I scoot closer to him and place my hand on his knee, hoping that the physical closeness will help him decide to be honest.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not lying.” </p><p> </p><p>“Yes, you are if you can just tell me…”</p><p> </p><p>Standing quickly, Logan moves from my touch, darting across the room to place his coffee cup on top of his dresser. Opening the top drawer, he extracts a grey t-shirt and pulls it over his head to cover himself, slamming it closed when he’s done, his back still turned to me.</p><p> </p><p>“You shouldn’t have seen.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m your partner. I was bound to see them eventually. Now please, tell me how you got them.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t.” Gripping the edge of the dresser, he lowers his head.</p><p> </p><p>“You can.  What happened?  Please, you need to trust me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t!”</p><p> </p><p>“Why can’t you trust me?”</p><p> </p><p>Spinning around, his hand clutches his heart, his eyes finally making contact with mine, and I can see the wild fear across his face. “Because!  Because the last person I trusted to tell this to was paid off and shipped away to Canada. And I don’t want that—I don’t want to lose you!”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not going to lose me!  Just trust me, please, Logan.  Tell me how you got these scars.”  My heart is racing with fear.  It must be bad.  If he’s working this hard to hide it, it must be so awful.  Tossing my feet over the edge of the bed, I rise, fighting my instinct to wrap my arms around him and hold him until he tells me the truth.</p><p> </p><p>“My father,” he whispers.  “Aaron gave them to me.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?  But that’s not possible.  Child abuse is illegal. If you told a government official, you’d be protected.”</p><p> </p><p>He scoffs and shakes his head. “I told a teacher.  The teacher did nothing.  They protected my father, not me.”</p><p> </p><p>“What did he do to you, Logan?”</p><p> </p><p>For a second, he balks, licking his lips, his eyes darting around the room as if looking for an exit.  When he realizes there is none, he crosses his arms over his chest and looks me square in the eye, and I know whatever he’s about to say will be the awful truth.</p><p> </p><p>“Aaron beat me, Veronica.  The scars are from him beating me with his belt over the years for everything from being too loud on a set to getting a C+ in math in sixth grade.  I was lucky, and only a few left physical scars, but there were also broken arms, dislocated ribs, threats…”</p><p> </p><p>“We have to tell someone.” I step across the room, my hands rising to press on his chest, and he looks down at me with concern. “We have to tell my dad!  He’ll do something!  He’ll make sure Aaron pays for what he’s done to you!”</p><p> </p><p>“No!  You can’t!” Stepping away from me, he crosses to the cafe table, his back turned to me again.  “If I tell anyone, he’ll hurt my mom!”</p><p> </p><p>“But Logan, my dad can protect both of you and…”</p><p> </p><p>“No!” His fist slams down on the table, and I jump at the bang, my nerves now tingling on edge. “Don’t you get it, Veronica?  The system is a joke!  I tried to get someone to help us, and they were just paid off and sent away, and nothing happened.  Nothing!  No justice was served. That's because nothing has changed since the war. It’s just taken all the darkness that was in the world and pushed it down into the shadows where no one can find it!  Duncan is right about that part—the government makes it seem like this is all been dealt with, but it’s not.  It’s not!”</p><p> </p><p>“That...that may be true, but my dad is good and honourable, and if you tell him, he can’t be bought, he can’t be manipulated.  He’ll get you justice, you’ll see!”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s my life, Veronica.  It’s my choice, not yours.” Rubbing his eyes with his palms, he lets out a frustrated sigh.  “Because if I tell your dad and my mother is hurt because Aaron found out, I’ll never forgive myself.  Ever.”</p><p> </p><p>“I...I don’t know…Logan, a crime has been committed.  I <em> need </em> to tell my dad. It’s the right thing to do.”  My eyes focus on the phone, mentally calculating the time difference between here and Neptune.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine.” Logan throws up his hands in defeat.  “Do what you’re going to do then.  I’m sure you’ve already made up your mind anyhow. I’m going to take a shower.”</p><p> </p><p>“Logan…” I reach out for him as he hurries for the bathroom door, but he dodges my touch, slamming the door behind him as he hides in the only place he can.</p><p> </p><p>I glance from the phone to the door and back, and my heart aches for him.  Closing my eyes, the only thing I see is an imagined scene of Logan being beaten by that monster, Aaron, and my stomach churns in disgust. The idea that someone could hurt the person I love, to the point where he is scarred—physically and emotionally—makes me ill.  And then, something else rises in me...anger.  A wave of deep, deep anger that Aaron got away with this for years and nothing was done makes me so mad I want to scream.  But I don’t.  I can’t.  Logan is right—this is his story to tell, not mine.  Maybe in time, he’ll come around, but for now, I just need to talk to him, make him feel secure and loved, just like he makes me feel every day.</p><p> </p><p>Now is not the time.  Not yet.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <b>Logan</b>
</p><hr/><p>The warm water is soothing, washing away the anger and self-loathing that seems to be seeping from my pores.  I’m so stupid.  I can’t believe I forgot about my back after everything I did last night to try and hide it from Veronica.  And now, because of Ducan’s voyeuristic visit, she’s seen them, and she knows and, fuck, now she’ll leave. I know it.  She’s too perfect for someone like me.  Duncan was right. She deserves to be with someone with a lot less baggage.</p><p> </p><p>The door to the shower opens and I jump in shock to see her standing at the entrance, naked, a look of concern on her face as she steps in, forcing me to move back against the wall. She closes the glass door and advances, pinning me up against the cold tiles as she wraps her arms around my waist, pressing her cheek to my chest.  Her fingers find the ridges along my back, and her palms spread over the scars.  I’m so shocked that it takes me a second to register that she’s hugging me, but when I do snap out of my haze, I wrap my arms around her tightly, letting the water wash over us both.</p><p> </p><p>“You could have told me,” she says softly, above the sound of the running water.</p><p> </p><p>“No.  I couldn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why not?”</p><p> </p><p>“Veronica, would you have accepted our partnership if you had known?” I look down at her to see her gaze back up, her eyebrows knitted in concern.</p><p> </p><p>“Please don’t do that, Logan.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t do what? Ask you bluntly if you could love someone as fucked up as I am?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not fucked up.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I am, Veronica.  I’ve just gotten very used to hiding it from the world.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want you to hide anymore, Logan. I want to see all of you, the good and the bad.  And I want the chance to love all of you.”  She blinks back the water on her eyelashes, and for a moment, I think she may cry.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, I didn’t tell you.” My heart tightens, and I try to recover the pain I’ve inflicted on her.  “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry you felt the need to hide it from me,” she replies, holding me tighter.  “But you’re not the only family who has secrets that they’ve been hiding.  I have secrets of my own that I’ve been hiding from you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Like what?”</p><p> </p><p>“My mother is an alcoholic. Over the years, she's been treated at home by different counselors, but she's relapsed several times.” I confess, feeling the weight of the secret releasing from my body. "And I hide it from everyone because if she gets shipped off to rehab, then she'll never come back."</p><p> </p><p>"Why do you say that?"</p><p> </p><p>"Because of what happened to Dick's mom when we were kids.  His mom was shipped off to rehab, and she never came back.  I overheard my mother gossiping about it with her friends once, and I was terrified that it would happen to her.  When I told her about it, she said that it wouldn’t happen to her if I kept her drinking a secret."</p><p> </p><p>Veronica’s mother was lying to her.  I cringe and wipe the water from my face, pained with the knowledge I’m about to break Veronica’s bubble about her mother’s actions.</p><p> </p><p>"It's not because of rehab, Veronica.” I lean down and kiss the top of her wet hair, trying to do this as gently as possible.  “Dick told me the story….his mother went to rehab, and when she was released, she ran off with a man she met there to Mexico.  Dick just never talks about it because she left behind him and his little brother, Cassidy, without ever saying goodbye. That's also why Dick has been seeing a counsellor for most of his life—she really messed him up."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh." She gasps, shifting her hands to press against my chest as I keep holding her tightly, watching her process what I’ve just said.  “My mother was lying to me then, manipulating me to keep her drinking a secret.”</p><p> </p><p>“It would seem that way.  I’m so sorry, Veronica.”  For a moment, we’re both silent in our warm cocoon, protected from the outside world as we both process the mess our parents have made of our lives. I press my cheek to her head, tucking her in against my body.  "Thank you for telling me your secret. This really puts your anger at me for drinking too much in perspective.  I promise I'll never do it again."</p><p> </p><p>"Logan, I don't want you to feel like you need to hide anything from me ever again. I love you, scars and all.” She steps away from my arms slightly to gaze up at me again, her eyes filled with sadness.  “And if you want to keep this between us for now, I won't tell my dad—not until you're ready—but please think about it.  You are my family now, and I'm yours. If you tell my dad, we can not only put Aaron in prison but also get the counselling you need to move past what happened. But until that time, whatever you need from me, I'll be there to help you."</p><p> </p><p>"I just need you, Veronica.  Just you. I never thought I deserved to be loved until you came into my life to love me unconditionally."</p><p> </p><p>"I do love you, Logan.  I love you so much.” She rises on her toes to me, kissing me with such tenderness that my heart wants to burst.  “And I need you, just as much as you need me."</p><p> </p><p>Veronica’s palms cradle my cheeks, and I lift her, turning us, so she’s now pressed against the tiles, her legs wrapped around my waist as I continue to kiss her, lips brushing against each other as the water washes down us.  There is no hurry—no desire for us to leave this place for now—and when we finally make love, as the water turns cold against our warm bodies, I feel like we could stay like this, hidden from the world, forever.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Chapter 22</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Posting a "bonus" chapter this week in honour of the final day of Trope-A-Palooza.  Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <b>Veronica</b>
</p><hr/><p>Today is the first day I have ever played hooky from school. But after the whirlwind weekend spent with Logan, I couldn’t drag myself to class.  When I woke up this morning, every muscle in my body ached from too much sex.  Apparently, there is a human limit to pleasure, and we hit it.  Truthfully, I probably could have gone into class, but I also wanted to avoid Duncan, and I figured that me hiding out for a day would give us some breathing space.  We still had to figure out a way to exist in the same program, but for now, time and space was needed. </p><p>The final reason had more to do with the revelations that happened in between all of the sex.  Logan’s admission about Aaron’s abuse.  My realization that my mother was gaslighting me to hide her alcoholism. What I desperately needed was time today to get my head on straight, without the delicious distraction of Logan around.  He did pop by briefly to check in on me during his lunch break to deliver some pain killers, a burger with large fries, and a bouquet of fresh flowers to needlessly apologize for any discomfort I was feeling.  When I reminded him that it was<em> me </em> who kept attacking <em> him </em>while he was trying to study, he just laughed and kissed the tip of my nose and promised we would limit ourselves to three orgasms maximum each day from now on.</p><p>Now, sitting on our bed in my sweats and his hoodie, I glance at the clock, taking note that I have about twenty minutes before Logan gets home.  If I want a private conversation with anyone, it’s now or never.</p><p>The phone has been sitting beside me on the bed for the last hour, and I finally get the nerve to pick it up and dial the number that’s been rolling around my head. Drumming my fingers on my knee, I listen to the ringtone from my call, anxiously waiting for it to connect. </p><p>“N.D.S.S.  Keith Mars here.”</p><p>“Hey, Dad!”</p><p>“Veronica!  It’s so good to hear your voice!  How’s school?  How’s Logan?”</p><p>I cringe.  What I want to say is that school is fine, and Logan’s father has been beating him.  But I don’t.  Because Logan is right; that’s <em> his </em> secret to tell.  Today, after a day of obsessing about it, I’m working on my own secret telling.</p><p>“Really great, Dad.  I’m learning a lot, and my professors are amazing.  And Logan’s fine too.”</p><p>“That’s good!  You’re figuring out how to get along better since the last time we talked?”</p><p>Biting my nail, I close my eyes at my own stupidity.  The last time we talked I may have complained just a bit about Logan since I was still irritated by the fact that he ate the last pieces of bread the night before and didn’t buy any more for breakfast the next morning.</p><p>“Yes. We’re getting along much better…” Behind my eyelids, the image of Logan’s head between my thighs flashes, and I quickly shake my head to get it out. “...we were still adjusting to each other’s quirks when we talked.  Everything’s fine now.”</p><p>My father chuckles, and I smile as I pull my feet up under me on the bed. “Perfectly normal.  I know my little quirks still irritate your mother, and we’ve been married for almost twenty years.”</p><p>I take a deep breath, gathering my courage to carry the conversation forward. “So how’s Mom doing? Does she still like working at the florist shop?”</p><p>Dad pauses and exhales loudly. “You know, that didn’t really work out for her. I think she may try getting some skill retraining before she tries to get on with another business.”</p><p>“Oh, no!  She was so excited about it when I talked to her a few weeks ago.”</p><p>“Yes, well, Lianne’s just not used to working at a shop anymore.  She was having trouble making it into work on time.”</p><p>Covering my lips with my fingers, I shake my head. <em> Shit. </em></p><p>“That’s...that’s kind of why I called you at work instead of at home, Dad.  How is she doing with me being gone?  Honestly.”</p><p>Another sigh and I hear the squeak of my dad’s old desk chair moving in the background before he speaks. “Not going to lie, Veronica. Having an empty nest is hard on your mother.  I’m thinking of calling in a counsellor again to help her find some direction.”</p><p>
  <em> It’s now or never. This is my in. </em>
</p><p>“Dad?  Is Mom drinking again?” I ask in a whisper. “Is that why she lost her job?”</p><p>“Why would you ask that, Veronica?” </p><p>His voice is calm.  Too calm.  It was the kind of calm he used when I was six, and he sat me down to tell me my hamster, Peanut Butter, was dead.</p><p>“I’m asking that, Dad, because I know she has a problem with alcohol.”  I take a slow, deep breath, and when he doesn’t interrupt my pause, I continue. “I’ve helped her hide it most of my life.  All the times I came home from school and she was passed out on the couch so I would make dinner.  All the afternoons when she picked me up after Debate Club and<em> I </em>would have to drive us back home because I could smell the alcohol on her breath. All the nights you would work late and I would have to tuck her into bed.” </p><p>My father releases a long sigh into the phone.  “Oh, Veronica.”</p><p>“It kind of just worked because I remember how you used to take care of her all those times when she was <em> sick </em> when I was little—the buckets near the bed, the tomato juice with breakfast.  I remember it all.”</p><p>“I didn’t know that you knew, Veronica. I’m sorry.  I thought that it only happened once in a while —when she went out with friends or got carried away alone at home.”</p><p>“It’s not your fault, Dad.  That’s why I’m calling—because it’s my fault too.  She led me to believe that if she was sent to a rehabilitation centre, she would never come back.  So I helped her—enabled her—because I didn’t want her to disappear.”</p><p>“What?  How did she convince you of that?”</p><p>“A school friend—Dick Casablancas—his mother went to rehab and never came back. I thought that was just what happened—if you were an alcoholic or a drug addict, they locked you up like a criminal. But yesterday, Logan told me that wasn’t the case, that Dick’s mother ran off with some man she met at the facility; that’s the real reason why she didn’t return. I overheard mom talking about it with her friends once, and she told me that was what would happen to her, so I kept it a secret, from you, from everyone.”</p><p>"Veronica...I...I don't know what to say…."</p><p>"You don't need to say anything, Dad.  I just wanted you to know, in case her drinking got worse with me not around, so you could get her the help she needs."  I pause, hoping he'll jump in, but when he doesn't, I work to fill the awkward space. "Lilly told me that when there are problems between Logan and I that I should confront it head-on and not run away. I thought a lot about that today, which is why I called sooner than later."</p><p>"Well, I'm glad you did, Veronica," he starts slowly and I can hear the emotion in his voice now. "It shows a level of maturity that I'm proud to hear you’ve gained. Unfortunately, it may not be one your mother possesses at her age."</p><p><em> Harsh </em> , <em> but unfortunately true. </em>I wish I could see dad’s face to read his expression.  Is he angry?  Sad? Or just bitter that this has come out now that he’s alone to deal with it?</p><p>“Can I ask you something?"</p><p> "You can ask me anything, Veronica."</p><p> "Do you know <em> why </em> Mom drinks?"</p><p><em> Is it because of me? </em> That's what I really want to know but don't have the guts to say out loud.</p><p>Dad’s response is a heavy sigh. "Veronica, you're being honest with me, and so I'll be honest with you.  Before your mother was partnered with me, she was in love with someone else.  It didn't work out, and so she applied to be part of The Orwell Project when it was launched, back when it was voluntary. That's how we were matched and even though we made it work on some level, she never really got this other man out of her heart. I never knew who it was but it still fills her with a deep sense of sadness to this day."</p><p>My stomach turns. My mother almost found someone <em> the old fashioned way </em>.  And it may have ruined her life.</p><p>"Oh Dad…I'm sorry."</p><p>"You have nothing to be sorry about. This is just how things worked out and now that I know more, I will make sure your mother gets the help she needs."  He pauses and I hear the squeaking of the chair again and I imagine him leaning back as he often did, scratching his balding head.  There was a comfort to just thinking about him in this way.   "My hope for you, Veronica, is that you are able to find some happiness with Logan so you don't end up with the demons your mother seems to have."</p><p>As if sensing his cue, Logan comes through the door, clutching two large paper bags from the shop in his arms. He frowns and jerks his head at the phone and I smile, my heart leaping in my chest with joy just at seeing his face.</p><p>"You don't have to worry.  Logan and I are very happy with our match."</p><p>"<em> Very </em> happy with your match, huh?" Dad chuckles and I catch Logan grinning like an idiot at me as he places the bags on the counter.</p><p>"Yes, <em> very </em> , <em> very </em> happy." I wink at Logan and he quickly pulls off his shoes and jacket, walking towards me.</p><p>"Well, that makes <em> me </em> happy to hear, Veronica."</p><p>Logan leans over to kiss the top of my head and a tickle of excitement runs through me as he sits down behind me on the bed.</p><p>"I mean, he still leaves wet towels on the bed, but not as often," I tease.</p><p>Logan kisses my neck, and I squeak in shock, giggling as he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me almost into his lap.</p><p>My dad laughs into the phone. "I take it he's there now?"</p><p>Swatting my hand playfully at Logan, I wriggle from his grasp. "Yes. He just got home from class."</p><p>"Well, while he's there, ask him if he'll be staying with us when you come home for the holidays in December or with his folks?"</p><p>I glance over my shoulder at him and bite my lip.  I know what his answer will be without question.</p><p>"He'll be staying with us for the holidays."</p><p>Logan's arms squeeze me tightly, and he kisses my shoulder.  Knowing now what I know, there is no way in hell he's going anywhere near Aaron again if I can help it.</p><p>“That’s good to hear.  Gives me a chance to get to know him better.”</p><p>“I’d like that, Dad. I’d like that a lot.”</p><p>Logan rises from his spot behind me and plants another kiss on my head before crossing back to the kitchen, his focus returning to our groceries.</p><p>“But in the meantime, I don’t want you to worry about your mother, Veronica.  You focus on your studies and your relationship.” He lets out another deep sigh as his voice turns serious again. “And if you can, please go and talk to one of the college counsellors about this. This is a pretty big secret to carry around, and I want you to talk to a professional about your feelings. Your mother should never have done this to you, and I’m ashamed that I didn’t know it was happening. I’m so sorry.”</p><p>Tears prickle my eyes and I blink them back. “You have no reason to apologize.  This was Mom’s lie. I’m just sorry it took me so long to realize what was happening.”</p><p>I catch Logan looking back at me with concern in his eyes, his lips pursed in a tight line, but he says nothing.</p><p>“I love you, Veronica.” My father’s voice cracks with emotion across the line. “I’ll call you when I have some news about your mother’s situation. But for now, I need to go back to work.”</p><p>“Love you too, Dad.  Goodbye,” I whisper back before the line goes dead.</p><p>Disconnecting the call, I stand and walk over to the kitchen to return the phone to its stand.  Logan reaches out his hand and takes it from me as I approach, but I keep my distance. I feel raw inside. Hollow.  How could I go from feeling so loved just hours ago to feeling so emotionally empty and alone inside?</p><p>When Logan’s hand caresses for my shoulder, I move away, crossing my arms in front of me. I don’t know why, but the idea of being touched right now doesn’t appeal to me at all. He frowns and returns to putting away the groceries.</p><p>“So...that was your dad.” </p><p>“Yeah.  It was.”</p><p>He tosses a quick side glance at me. “Did you talk to him about me?”</p><p>“Yes,” I state, but when I see his eyes go wide in shock, I realize what he must have meant. “I mean, no!  No!  We talked about you in general, but I didn’t tell him about Aaron.”</p><p>The fear drops from his eyes, and he nods, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning his shoulder against the edge of the wall, focusing all his attention on me for the moment. “Okay.  So what did you talk about to make you suddenly so cool to my touch?”</p><p>I let out a little moan of emotional agony and rub my face with my palms before stuffing my hands into the pocket of the hoodie. “My mom. I told him about the secret I’ve been hiding about her drinking. And he told me that the catalyst was her deep unhappiness over losing a man she loved nearly two decades ago.  How messed up is that?”</p><p>“Wow.  That’s crazy.”</p><p>“Yeah.  It is.  But I don’t want to think about it anymore.  I’ve thought about my mom and you and Aaron and then my mom again all day.  I need to be a productive member of the human race again.” Walking around him, I reach into the second bag and pull out a bunch of bananas, placing them in the fruit bowl in the corner of the counter. “Tell me about your day.  Please.  We didn’t get long to talk when you stopped by at lunch.”</p><p>Logan turns away from the wall and goes back to pulling things out of the other bag, opening our cupboard to put a couple of bags of cheesy puffs and chips inside. “My day was fine. We were given some study time at the end of my last class, so I decided to leave early and pick up some supplies for us at the store on the way home.” He sucks in a sharp breath and pauses before exhaling.  “That’s where Duncan caught up to me.”</p><p>“Duncan?  I thought he would be done with us after yesterday.”  I pause what I’m doing and frown up at Logan.</p><p>He chuckles and shakes his head.  “Not when you were supposed to meet him to discuss your project.  He came looking for me because you weren’t in class. He wanted to know about your project and obviously was too chicken shit to ever knock on our door again.”</p><p>“What did you tell him?”</p><p>“That we had so much sex that you couldn’t walk to class and had to stay in bed.”</p><p>“Logan!” I slap his shoulder with the back of my hand, and he laughs.</p><p>“I’m kidding!  But he was following me around the shop, asking me all sorts of questions I couldn’t answer about your project, so I told him you had your period and decided to stay home.” He reaches into the bag and pulls out a box of tampons and hands them to me with a smirk. “Decided to pick these up in front of him to make the lie seem legit.”</p><p>A sharp laugh escapes me as I reach for the box, shaking my head.  “Oh my God, you’re the best!”</p><p>Logan shrugs, glancing back into the depths of the bag before folding it. “I feel like my old friend is not as comfortable around female anatomy as I am, even if we were in the same health classes.”</p><p>And at that moment, all the stress of the day just washes away. Dropping the box on the counter, I reach up and wrap my arms around Logan’s shoulders and plant a soft kiss on his lips as he squeezes me tightly to him. </p><p>“I’m glad you’re comfortable around me and my anatomy.”</p><p>His hand pats my butt cheek as he playfully wiggles his eyebrows at me. “I adore every inch of your anatomy immensely. Especially that little beauty mark on your inner thigh I discovered last night.  It’s my favourite.”</p><p>Heat sweeps through me again as I remember him kissing down my naked body, telling me he wanted to memorize every part of me while he teased me with only his lips on my skin. He must be remembering the same thing because when he kisses me, it’s firm and warm, lingering as I pull myself higher on my tiptoes to keep us together. When we part, I keep myself nose to nose with him, my cheeks hurting from the wide grin spread across my face.</p><p>“This brings me to another thing I was thinking about….” I start slowly, watching the twinkling happiness in his eyes. “How would you feel about some <em> new </em> rules about sex?”</p><p>“Mmmm...if you mean ones like on even days your every wish is my command, and on odd days we switch?”</p><p>“No.” I laugh, and he forces a silly pout across his lips.  “I mean, maybe we try and keep sex to bedtime hours. I did work a little on my project to try and catch up from time lost to sex this weekend.  Remember how we joked that we would fail our classes?  Well, I realized if we keep up this pace, we might as well drop out now and get it over with.”</p><p>“Fair assessment. But what about Friday nights?  We usually just read or hang out with our friends that night anyway.  Maybe we can institute Fool Around Fridays and get it out of our system for the weekend?” he offers in response.</p><p>“Oh my God, I can’t believe we’re scheduling sex.”</p><p>“That doesn’t sound like a <em> no </em> to Fool Around Fridays?”</p><p>“Fine.” I laugh. “If you think Fool Around Fridays is the solution to our mutual distraction then we’ll try it.”</p><p>“Okay then.  F.A.F. it is.”</p><p>When I laugh again, he cups my behind in his hands and lifts me up as I squeal and plants me directly onto the counter. Looking down on him, I cradle his face in my hands and lean in for a long, soft kiss. With a contented sigh, I release him, gazing into his eyes.  </p><p>“Well, now that the sex part of the conversation is settled, I have two more items to cross off my list before we move on.”</p><p>His nose wrinkles as his eyes narrow at me.  “I didn’t know this was a meeting.”</p><p>“It’s a meeting while kissing.” I lean down and give him a quick peck on the lips for emphasis. “Makes it more fun.”</p><p>“Let me just say you had <em> way </em> too much time to think today, but do go on.  Let’s have the next action item on your list so we can get back to making out properly, please.”</p><p>Dropping my palms to his shoulders, I take a deep breath, releasing it when I speak.  “I think we shouldn’t give up on Duncan.”</p><p>“Ugh.  Veronica…”</p><p>“Just hear me out. I think we need to find out more about this group Duncan is in—this C.H.A.D. business—and report it to the authorities if needed.  I figured maybe I can ask Parker if anyone has approached her about it, since she’s a single female, and you can ask around about it with any single men in your class.” Logan rolls his eyes at me and huffs, but I ignore him and continue.  “I still feel like we owe it to Lilly to watch out for him, that’s all.  And if we end up protecting some innocent women from God knows what that’s going on with this group, then that’s a positive too.  And, of course, to save Duncan from his own fool self.”</p><p>He huffs again and pauses, contemplating my words. “If I say yes, will this get us back to kissing faster?”</p><p> “Logan!  I’m being serious.”</p><p>“Fine!  We’ll look into it.  For Lilly.  And obviously for your peace of mind too.”</p><p>“Thank you.” I smile and reward him with another small kiss, my stomach knotting as I approach my final point.</p><p>“Okay, so now that’s one more item off the agenda.  What’s the last thing you want to talk about, Veronica?”</p><p>I cringe and hold my breath for a second, gathering my nerve to say what I need to say. “Aaron.  I want to talk about you turning in Aaron.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p><b>Logan</b> </p><hr/><p><em> Fuck. </em>  Why did I think she would just leave it alone?  Of course, she wants to talk about Aaron.</p><p>“Veronica…”</p><p>I start to step back, but her fingers clamp down on my shoulders, and if I move back anymore, she’ll fall off the counter.  At this point, I’m surprised she hasn’t hooked her legs around me to keep me from running.</p><p>“Just hear me out,” she states. “You are under no obligation to do so, but I want you to consider talking to my father about your abuse when we go back for the holidays.”</p><p>Fear rises in my chest.  This whole discussion terrifies me but I try to hold it in as best I can, hoping she doesn’t notice.</p><p>“You’ll be staying with me and my family, so you’ll be safe,” Veronica continues quickly. “And we can figure out a way to keep your mom safe too.  Maybe my mom and her can go holiday shopping together or get manicures or something. We can get her out of the house, and you can tell my dad and he can swoop in and put Aaron behind bars.”</p><p>An ironic chuckle rises in my throat and I shake my head. “That’s a lovely little plan you have in your head.” </p><p>“Are you mocking me?” Veronica’s voice is tinged with anger.</p><p>“No!  Not at all.” I step closer to her and wrap my arms around her waist. “It’s just surreal to share the same fantasy of Aaron finally going to jail because of what he’s done to me with you.  Because trust me, Veronica,<em> no one </em> has spent more time imagining scenarios in which Aaron is sent to live life in a nuclear zone than <em> me </em>.”</p><p>“Well, good.  Because making sure justice is served to Aaron has occupied a lot of space in my brain over the last forty-eight hours.”</p><p>Exhaling, I press my forehead to hers and close my eyes as she removes her hands from my shoulders, sliding them down, so they rest in the small of my back.  Ever since she discovered my scars, I’ve noticed her hand naturally falling to the spot as if she can magically remove them with her touch.  When we got out of the shower, I let her look at them closer, laying myself bare to her as I had never done before.  Lilly chose to ignore them, but Veronica is different—she needs to know—and there was no point in hiding them anymore.</p><p>“I should expect no less from a future judge.” I feel her breath on my lips when she gives a small laugh, and I open my eyes to meet hers. “Can I think about it some more before then? Please?”</p><p>“You can,” she says quietly. “My father suggested that I talk to a counsellor about my mother. I know you can’t talk to one now, or they will report the abuse, but I want you to think about it for the future.  If you tell my father and Aaron is put away, then we can come back to school, and you can get the help you need to move on from it. Because when you said you were ‘fucked up inside,’ it broke my heart to know that the man I love was in so much pain.  And I just want you to be out of your pain, Logan.  That’s all I want.”</p><p>My heart aches, and I feel like I’m caught between crying and screaming in anger that Aaron did this to me, to us.  When her lips reach mine, I don’t resist, letting myself fall into her love.  As she parts her lips, my tongue finds hers, and she moans, pushing herself against me, her legs finally wrapping around my waist. For now, she seems content to let the topic drop, and I’m satisfied to just stand here and kiss her, forgetting all about Aaron and Duncan.</p><p>I can’t tell how much time has passed as we slowly brush our lips back and forth, comforting each other from too many big thoughts.  When Veronica’s hand slips up my t-shirt, coaxing it up, I release her for a split second to pull it over my head before returning to the security of her kiss.  We only part again when she pulls away, panting, her cheeks flushed, her pupils big and round.</p><p>“You know...if you’re still sore—” I say slowly, arching an eyebrow at her as her fingers trail down towards my belt buckle. “—I can always kiss it and make it better.”</p><p>“Oooooh.  I like where your head’s at.”  A devilish grin spreads across her face, and she licks her lips. “I could definitely use some T.L.C.”</p><p>Gripping her ass, I pull her off the counter, and she wraps her arms around my shoulders firmly.  I begin to saunter towards the bed, allowing her time to back out if she wants.</p><p>“You realize, we are about to break the first rule you set out about sex during sunlight hours,” I tease.</p><p>“Oh, well.” She shrugs as we reach the foot of the bed.  “You win some, you lose some.  I’m willing to compromise on this one.”</p><p>Lowering her gently onto the mattress, I stare down at her smiling face looking back at me, knowing that within minutes she’ll be moaning my name while my face is between her legs and suddenly, I’m hard and ready for whatever she wants.</p><p>“I’ll compromise with you anytime, Bobcat.  Anytime.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Chapter 23</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Veronica</strong>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>"Well, well. You've finally emerged from your lair, Ms. Mars," Parker states, a glint of mischief in her eye.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I place my lunch tray in the space between us and sit down across from her, glancing around the table at the other friends seated around me, their meals already mostly consumed.  The down-side to having friends in other programs was that by the time I caught up to them at lunch, they were often halfway through their conversations and food.  Today, I suspect that <em>I</em> was the topic of discussion.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hello to everyone, too,” I state and unwrap my chicken sandwich, trying to ignore their stares.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"When we ran into Logan yesterday, he said you weren't feeling well," Mac adds, a wide grin spreading across her lips. "Had to stay in bed <em>all day.</em>"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oh no.  Here it comes.  My insides tighten as I prepare myself for the onslaught.  I know what Lilly would say if she were here—which is why I’m putting off the phone call to her with an update on Logan and my status until my eardrums can stand the intensity of her squealing with excitement.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"But rumour has it a couple was having very <em>enthusiastic </em>sex in their room for the better part of the weekend…" I toss a side glance at Jackie, and the glee on her face is undeniable, causing me to blush and look away again. "...on the same floor, you guys are on."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"And Logan did look <em>very</em> happy yesterday when we ran into him.  Almost like he was <em>glowing</em>," Parker teases.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I hide my face in my palms and groan, and the women erupt in laughter around me. When Jackie's hand rests on my shoulder, I peek out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I take it you told him about your feelings?" She smiles at me, warmly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yeah, I did," I reply, taking my hands away from my face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"So your worry that he wouldn't respond in kind was unfounded too?" Parker reaches across the table and places her hand on my arm.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yeah. It was."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Warmth rushes through me at the thought of being loved by Logan. It was all still so shiny and new and thrilling, and it made me hope we could stay like this forever, just content to be thoroughly and unequivocally in love with each other.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"We're all so happy for you," Mac concurs, sweeping her purple bangs from her face. “We may tease you, but we do mean it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Emotion tightens in my chest as I look at all the amazing women surrounding me. I must admit that I didn't have many close female friends—besides Lilly—growing up, and now, to be included with this group makes me feel incredibly fortunate.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Thanks. You were right, and I never should have been afraid to tell him how I feel.  And yes, Logan and I spent a blissfully happy weekend together,” I state, another tickle of excitement running through me as my mind automatically flashes to <em>how </em>blissful the weekend was.  “But for now, can we just let it go?  Please?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The three lock eyes for a second before giggling in unison. Jackie removes her hand from my shoulder and goes back to picking at her large fries.  “Okay.  Fine. Do you have a new topic of discussion then, because, for the past few days, all we have talked about is <em>you.</em>”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good to know my love life is entertainment.” Rolling my eyes, I shake my head with a sigh. “Actually, I do have another topic.  C.H.A.D.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Who the hell is Chad?” Mac asks, her brow wrinkling in confusion.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh!  That’s the weird group Wallace told me about," Jackie interjects. “The one with the men against <em>Orwell</em> and any other government computer intervention.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And women,” I add.  “Apparently, there are a few women involved as well.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey!  That sounds familiar….” Parker reaches below the table and pulls her over-sized purple backpack onto her lap, shifting back to make room as she unzips the main compartment and proceeds to rummage through.  “Piz gave me an invitation to a party with that name on it on Sunday while I was studying in the library.  I just thought he was hitting on me again, so I shoved it into my bag and told him I’d think about it.  And then I went back to my research and forgot all about it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I hold my breath for a moment as she continues to look, now pulling out books and setting them on the edge of the table.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, this group is against <em>all </em>technology?” A sharp V forms between Mac’s eyebrows, as if she can’t fathom that someone would be against computers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“From what I understand, they’re not anti-technology per se, they just want the ability to choose their own partners. Logan found out that Duncan has been attending their meetings, but it sounds like there’s more to it than just the partnering thing.  He said that they talk about politics a lot and that the ratio between men and women in the group is two-to-thirty.”  I take a bite of my lunch and watch Parker continue to dig.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That sounds pretty creepy,” Mac adds. “I mean, I know that there will always be people that want to go back to the old ways, but their way doesn’t sound like an upgrade.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Found it!” Parker lifts a crumpled blue piece of paper out from the bottom of her bag.  She pushes her tray to the side and spreads the paper flat as crumbs fall out of the water-stained sheet. “Sorry.  My bag is a disaster zone.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When she flips it around, I skim the details in big block lettering. “Old School Dance Party,” I start to read out loud from the top. “Friday, October 29.  10:00 pm. Metals Inc. Building, 10315 Calumet Access Road, Chicago. DJ Piznarski with guests. Open bar and free cover. Hosted by C.H.A.D.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“When Piz gave it to me, I considered the source and just looked it over to be kind.” Parker shrugged.  “He said that it was mainly for unmatched people, but I could bring a matched friend or two if I wanted.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“An open bar at a college party sounds sketchy,” I state, my eyes locked on the crude drawing of album covers that fill in the spaces between the words. <em> I wonder if Piz drew them himself before photocopying a bunch?</em> “It’s like they <em>want</em> everyone to get drunk.  And this address doesn’t sound like it’s around the campus area.  My dad is the head of N.D.S.S. for Neptune Sector, and at least once a month, there would be a party in one of the old abandoned industrial warehouses outside of town.  I wonder if it’s the same around here?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think it’s the same everywhere,” Jackie says.  “I went to a few warehouse parties in high school.  No drinking, mind you, but they were a blast.  Just some good music and harmless fun.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tapping my index finger on the sheet, I contemplate the possibilities. This could be a legitimate party.  Or it could be a little more sinister.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Parker, if I go with you, would you go to this party? Maybe Mac can come too? Safety in numbers,” I state.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey! What about me!” Jackie pouts, pointing a long french fry at me. “Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I can’t still dance.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Chuckling, I steal her weapon of choice from her fingers and pop it in my mouth as she gasps in faux shock. “I thought I would take off my ring and pretend to be unmatched that night.  As much as I would love for you to come, the baby belly definitely says, ‘I’m matched.’”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay, fair,” she replies.  Her hand falls to the top of her belly, protruding under her tight green sweater as she sighs.  “Who am I kidding—I’d rather be asleep at that time anyhow.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why the sudden interest in this, Veronica?” Mac asks.  “What’s the big deal about this group?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Wrinkling my nose at the paper, I fold it up and shove it in the back pocket of my jeans. How do I answer this question when I’m not sure myself why this is so important?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s not really about the group as much as it’s about my friend Duncan…” I start, unsure of exactly where I’m going.  “His sister is my best friend, and really, he’s been one of my good friends since elementary school.  And quite honestly, for a while, I thought that maybe I would be partnered with him.  Not that I regret Logan, not at all, but it seemed on the surface like Duncan and I would be matched.  So I guess now, I feel like I have a bit of a duty to help him.  He’s kind of lost his way since we got to college, and I just want to make sure he gets back on the right track if that makes sense? And I think if I show him that this C.H.A.D. group is the wrong decision, he’ll refocus on what matters.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Helping a good friend always makes sense,” Parker says and reaches across to place her hand on mine.  “I’ll definitely go with you to check it out.  You just have to promise to never leave my side while we’re there, and if anyone talks to me, you have to find a way to get them away from me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I feel that’s fair.  And ditto for me,” I laugh.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Count me in too,” Mac adds. “Along with the provision of moving as a pack.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, I guess I’ll stay home and hear all about it the next day,” Jackie sighs. “Have fun with the weird men without me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A shiver runs down my spine as they all laugh.  I hope it will be fun.  I hope it will be harmless fun and we’ll all dance and have a few drinks and it will all be fine—a misunderstanding or misinterpretation of facts.  But the fear creeping along my nerves reminds me that darker intentions may still be at work.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Logan</strong>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>“There.  That’s him,” Wallace points to a lanky, pasty white dude with a mass of reddish-curly hair exiting the lecture hall.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>We’ve been waiting for the appearance of Wallace’s buddy from his class for the last thirty minutes, and now I’m regretting that we didn’t grab lunch beforehand.  I push myself from my leaning position against the wall, adjusting my jacket as I walk through the crowd of other students.  Following the man, as he walks quickly down the hallway, I hope to catch up with him and get the answers Veronica wants promptly and efficiently so I can grab a sandwich before our next class.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey!  Ratner!” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Wallace calls after him loudly from behind me, and the guy stops and turns towards me, frowning.  As Wallace catches up, Jeff Ratner’s face morphs from confusion to a smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, Wallace!  Are you looking for some pointers on your fadeaway?  Because I have time…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ha. Ha. Hah.” Wallace claps his hand on Ratner’s shoulder as he shakes his head.  “One fancy shot on the basketball court and suddenly you’re a gift to the sport?  Think again, my friend.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, what’s up?” Ratner looks me up and down with a grin. “Or are you looking to add this guy to the team? Because if you are, I’d have to see him on the court first.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, this has nothing to do with basketball. Jeff, this is my buddy, Logan.  He’s actually looking for information on a group you may have heard of….”  Wallace jerks his thumb towards me, and I take my cue.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What do you know about C.H.A.D.?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ratner’s response is to snort with laughter and shake his head.  “You mean besides the fact that they are pushing a hetero-normative existence outside of our current state of affairs?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He bobs his head to the right and proceeds to walk towards an empty vestibule near the window.  Wallace and I follow as the crowds begin to thin in the halls.  It’s the lunch break, and soon, the entire floor will probably be empty.  When we are away from people, Ratner leans against the window frame, crossing his arms.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So you <em>do</em> know about the group?” I proceed, lowering my voice in case anyone is listening.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah.  I went to one of their meetings,” he says, his voice low as his gaze darts around for any prying eyes. “It was the weirdest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“See.  Told you he would know,” Wallace murmurs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How did you find out about the group?  What happened?” I ask, hoping he’s willing to share as much as he can with a virtual stranger.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A few weeks after I got here, I was studying in my room, and someone shoved a blue flyer under my door with the details for the meeting.  It said it was for unmatched people, so I thought, cool, maybe this was a good way to meet some other single people in my dorm.  Problem was when I went to the meeting, I realized it was for unmatched <em>heterosexual</em> people, and my gay ass was probably not going to be warmly welcomed if I started hitting on any of the twenty other men there,” Ratner says, pointedly. “There was all this talk about politics and how the government was subverting the natural order of things by accepting all forms of unions and how <em>Orwell </em>was going against <em>traditional values </em>dating back from before the war.  Then, at one point, these three girls joined the discussion, and everyone lined up and took turns sitting at a table and talking to them.  It was really strange..”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Did you talk to them?” I ask.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah.  I figured pretending to be hetero was the way to go in this instance.” He chuckles. “Two of the girls looked really bored, and the other looked positively terrified.  Like, this was not what she expected—to be surrounded by a group of lecherous losers, panting and drooling over them.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What happened to them?” Wallace continues.  “The women, I mean.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, two to them left with two guys they chose, but the scared one ended up leaving with the guy who brought them in—Gory, the head of the group.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How did you know he was the head of the group?”  I question, curious about a man who seemed to be the brains behind this group of deadbeats.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He went around talking to everyone, shaking their hands, and handing out newspapers and print outs from all sorts of underground media.” Ratner shrugs.  “I would show it to you, but it was such garbage I threw it out the minute I left the place. It was just more shit about <em>the good old days </em>when men were men and women were women and blah, blah, blah.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Where was the meeting?” I continue. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>My heart is now beating so hard I can hear it in my ears.  This is all sounding like some sick production my parents would have written and produced as a warning about pre-war times.  Except it was real.  Too real.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Some old building on the other side of town near the docks. Looks like it was an industrial warehouse that was spruced up a bit to make it look like it didn’t once house giant machines and such,” Ratner explains.  “But on the outside, it still looked like a business—Metals Inc. was the name on the sign. That’s what really sucked because I took a really expensive cab ride there and back and had to eat nothing but cereal for a week because it drained my stipend funds.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I wonder if the guy’s family owns it?” Wallace declares, snapping his fingers as if he found a clue. “That Gory dude?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Could be.” I shrug. “We’ll have to look into it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, I wouldn’t do that.” Ratner raises his palms in the air and waves them back and forth.  “I don’t know what that guy’s story is, but I’m going to guess by the vibes he was throwing, it isn’t good.  He doesn’t go to our college, but he seems to have connections here. There were quite a few people that I later recognized on campus that were at the meeting—some of them even live on my dorm floor.  And he had two big, beefy guys that seemed to be his right-hand-men that definitely were not college-age kids like us.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>My mind is clicking at a furious pace, trying to imagine everything together.  Duncan.  Piz. Gory. The warehouse.  The men.  The women.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The women,” I repeat out loud.  “Do you think the women were coerced into being there by these punks?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The one who was uncomfortable definitely gave off that vibe,” he answers.  “The other two, I don’t know.  Unless hooking up with strange men is their bag.  Or they’ve been doing this so long that they don’t care.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The next question churns up straight from the bile in my belly, and I cringe at the thought.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do you think they’re being sold or traded for sex?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ratner’s mouth drops open for a second as if the idea never crossed his mind before, and his eyes glaze over.  When he snaps to, his mouth closes, and he shrugs, fear now in his eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I...I don’t know. Two of them looked really eager, so I would say no, but then again, what the hell do I know about women?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Shit. Fuck. Damn.  What the hell have you gotten yourself mixed up in, Duncan?</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Logan?  You got any more questions?” Wallace’s grip on my shoulder jars me from my thoughts.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No.  Thanks, man, you’ve been a real help.” I reach out and offer my hand, and Jeff shakes it, a small smile forming across his lips.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No problem.  Any friend of Wallace’s is a friend of mine.” Releasing my hand, he adjusts his backpack on his shoulder and nods to us both. “See you on the court tonight, Wallace.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“See you later, bro.” Wallace pats his back as he walks past us and smiles. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>I step into the space vacated by Ratner and stare out the window, watching the students hurry along the snow-covered paths between the buildings.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You okay?”  Wallace asks from behind me. “That was pretty heavy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I find his reflection in the glass and nod.  “Yeah.  Just taking a second to put all the pieces together in my brain.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The <em>Orwell </em>system was implemented to make things safer for people.  But evil still manages to find a way around the protections.  Aaron proved that to me when I was young.  Maybe this was a chance for me to help others who had fallen through the cracks as I did.  Or stop it from happening to others. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Either way, something needs to be done.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Chapter 24</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <b>Logan</b>
</p><hr/><p>Veronica sits naked between my legs as I lean against the headboard, her head tucked under my chin, her back against my chest. She's holding my left hand up in front of her, her index finger lazily tracing the lines on my palm, and it’s so soft and comforting that I just want to close my eyes and fall asleep. </p><p> </p><p>I got back from the gym tonight, and she attacked me at the door, proclaiming that the sun went down hours ago; therefore, our deal about sex during daylight hours during the week was still valid.  Three orgasms (two for her, one for me) and two positions later, we ended up like this, quietly enjoying being naked together before getting ready to sleep.</p><p> </p><p>She places her left hand in mine, lining up our union rings.  For a moment, we both focus on the glint of our gold bands as they catch the light.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you thinking about?” I venture, dipping my head to kiss her bare shoulder, lingering to brush my lips across her salty skin.</p><p> </p><p>“Duncan.”</p><p> </p><p>I blink in shock, my head jerking back away from her. “What?”</p><p> </p><p>Her fingers thread between mine and she brings our joined hands to her breast and lets out a soft sigh. “I was thinking about how grateful I am that I wasn’t matched with him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, well, then.  Let me add how very grateful I am that you weren’t matched with him either,” I chuckle and kiss the side of her head.  “What prompted that thought?”</p><p> </p><p>She shivers, and I begin to gather the duvet over our bodies, still glistening with sweat.  We’re both quiet as I cover us, and I know that her silence means she’s thinking because her tell-tale frown is across her forehead.  When we are all tucked in together, she lets out a heavy sigh.</p><p> </p><p>“What prompted that thought was how easily Duncan was led astray by Piz and this C.H.A.D. group,” she states.  “I always thought he was an intelligent, critical thinker—someone who analyzed the sources and came up with a thoughtful and well-rounded argument.  But really, he’s emotionally stunted.  It’s like he’s completely rejected everything we’ve learned over our lives.”</p><p> </p><p>As I slide my hands around Veronica’s waist under the covers, her hands land on my forearm, squeezing me tightly.</p><p> </p><p>“Did you talk to Parker about C.H.A.D. today?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, and not only has she heard of them, but she also got an invitation to some party they’re having on Friday at a warehouse somewhere in the city.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait.  What kind of party?”</p><p> </p><p>“The flyer said that it was an ‘old school dance party’—and Piz happens to be the D.J. for that too.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is she going?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. And she’s taking Mac and me with her.”</p><p> </p><p>“Veronica!  You can’t go...and neither can Parker or Mac.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?  Why?” She cocks her head from below me to look up, and I frown down at her.</p><p> </p><p>“Because I talked to a single friend of Wallace’s today—Jeff Ratner—and I think your guess about there being something more sinister happening with this group may be correct.  Jeff told us that three girls were basically there at the meeting  to choose someone to ‘date,’ and he got the distinct impression that at least one of them did not want to be there.”</p><p> </p><p>“Logan...then it’s even more important that we find out what’s going on so we can get Duncan out of the group  and report it to the regional Safety System.”</p><p> </p><p>“Veronica, you shouldn’t be anywhere near this party.  This Gory character seems like bad news. Let me and Wallace deal with it from here.”</p><p> </p><p>She rises away from me, scooting herself towards the end of the bed, taking the blankets with her.  I shiver and pull on one end, trying to keep a bit of warmth from escaping.  But the icy stare Veronica’s now throwing me does nothing to help the chill in the room.</p><p> </p><p>“I can handle myself, Logan.  My dad is head of the Neptune Regional Safety System.  I know what I’m doing.” She pulls one section of the duvet around her, and now it’s not only becoming a verbal fight, it’s about to become a fight for the covers as well.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s like saying my parents are actors, so I know how to handle a camera, Veronica.  It doesn’t work that way.” I scoff and yank a section of the duvet back towards me, pulling away from the headboard to sit closer to her.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, in this case, it has to work that way.  There could be someone’s life at stake,” she snaps back.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.  Yours...and Parker’s...and Mac’s if you go to this thing.” I wave my hand at her, and her eyes narrow in anger.  “What do you think you’re going to do?  Just waltz in there, take a look around, figure out what’s happening and magically save these women?”</p><p> </p><p>“As a matter of fact, yes, I do.”</p><p> </p><p>“Veronica…” I huff, rolling my eyes at her stubbornness.</p><p> </p><p>“Would you please stop saying my name that way?” She growls back at me in the same tone she used with Duncan.</p><p> </p><p>“What way?”</p><p> </p><p>“Like I’m a child.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not talking to you that way.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.  You are.  Now stop it.” Crossing her arms, she puffs up her chest and straightens her shoulders, physically steadying herself for a fight.</p><p> </p><p>I’m about to snark back, but instead, I pause, biting my lip. This is spiralling out of control, fast. It’s time to defuse this before it gets ugly.  I take a deep breath and pause, steadying myself.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine.  Fine, Veronica.  I will check my tone.  I do agree with you that something needs to be done, but maybe, if you tell me your plan, we can figure out a way to do this safely, together. One that saves Duncan from himself and makes sure that Gory and his gang face the consequences of their actions within the justice system."</p><p> </p><p>Her response is to take a cleansing breath as well, her hard features softening ever so slightly—going from looking like she’s going to tear me apart to only wanting to maul me a bit.</p><p> </p><p>“My plan was to take off my ring and go to the party with Parker and Mac.  We can talk to the other girls there and find out if Gory convinced them to join or if they found out about it like Parker did, through another person inviting them.  When I get the information, we can talk to Duncan and convince him to leave before things get ugly. That’s all.  And then we’ll talk to someone in the Safety System.  But Logan, someone has to do something, especially if what Duncan said was true, and this is happening all over the country.”</p><p> </p><p>“That sounds like a solid idea; however, I would like to say that I think I should go too, in case there’s some trouble.  I’ll take off my ring as well that night, and maybe I can convince Ratner to come with me. He’s attended one of their meetings already so if he shows up, no one would question it.”</p><p> </p><p>“That would help. Do you think Piz and Duncan would be suspicious if we were there but not together?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll just convince them it’s all part of some kinky role-playing thing we’re doing.” I wiggle my eyebrows at her playfully, and a smile finally cracks her lips. “You can <em> shamelessly </em> flirt with me all night, and then it will look real when you go home with me at the end, to those who don’t know us.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oooohh.  I like that thinking…” Veronica leans forward, arching her eyebrow at me as a lascivious grin spreads across her face. Crawling back to me, she tosses the blanket off us both so she can straddle my lap, her nose touching the tip of mine.  “Let’s add some role-playing to our repertoire, shall we?”</p><p> </p><p>I chuckle as her lips brush mine, my hands sliding down to cradle her ass cheeks in my lap. “Why not.  All part of <em> getting to know </em> each other.”</p><p> </p><p>“And I have very much been enjoying <em> getting to know </em>you…” she whispers as her lips finally settle on mine, warming me with a deep, long kiss.</p><p> </p><p>And just like that, I’m up and ready for round three.</p><p> </p><p>That is until the banging on the door shocks us to pull away from our kiss.</p><p> </p><p>“Building evacuation!  Everyone out of the room, now!” A voice carries through the door.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my God…” Veronica’s hand covers her mouth, her eyes wide in shock.</p><p> </p><p>“Get dressed!  Quick!” </p><p> </p><p>I spin us towards the edge of the bed, my hands grasping Veronica under her arms and as I stand, I pull her off my lap and plant her on the floor.  For a split second, she looks up at me, slightly dazed by the sudden shift in perspective.  I drop to the floor at her feet and begin to gather our clothes off the floor as fast as I can. A moment later, she follows, grabbing her things from the ground and pulling them on.</p><p> </p><p>Socks. Pants. Sweaters. Forget the rest. My heart is racing as I grab both of our jackets from the chair and toss Veronica’s to her, followed by her hat and her gloves.  I grab her purse and jump into my boots and start pulling on my hat and gloves.  When she catches up, I hand her the bag and turn towards the door, pressing my palm to the wood with one hand and grasping the knob with the other.  There’s no heat on the other side, so I pull the door open and glance down the hallway at the mass of people scampering for exits.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t smell any smoke.  I don’t see any smoke either.”  Stepping out into the hall, I offer Veronica my hand, and she takes it as the door closes behind her.</p><p> </p><p>Adrenaline pumps through my veins, my brain firmly set to <em> flight </em> as we push open the emergency exit door next to our room and quickly descend the stairs, joining other students in various states of dress and undress as we proceed all the way to the bottom.  The cold from the outside door hits my face, and I realize how hot my face is when the frigid air stings my cheeks.  </p><p> </p><p>Still gripping Veronica’s hand, we race out of the building and through the tall drifts of snow towards the group of other students now standing on the cleared path.  Stopping under the lamp-light, I turn and look up at the building in shock, safe but confused.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <b>Veronica</b>
</p><hr/><p>Standing next to Logan, I stare at the building, watching others stream out into the night in the same flustered state as us.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you think is going on?”  I ask, trying to look for signs of what could be happening.</p><p> </p><p>Campus Security is setting up a perimeter with yellow caution tape around the building, holding everyone back.  People in bright orange pinnies are handing out thick wool blankets in the crowd to those who didn’t take the time to put on jackets or boots.  Everyone has the same shocked and bewildered faces.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know.  I don’t see any smoke….”  He pulls gently on my hand and walks over to our neighbours, standing near a path light, both wrapped in grey blankets. “Hey, do you guys know why we’re being evacuated?”</p><p> </p><p>“No clue,” Leslie, the tall blond woman, responds, jerking her head towards her partner.  “Kecia and I were studying in bed when they knocked on the door.” She looks down at her red flannel plaid pants and warm winter boots and chuckles. “Good thing we were already in our pyjamas. Too bad, we panicked and forgot our jackets.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe something structural or electrical?” Kecia pulls the blanket over her thick afro as a makeshift hood and moves closer to her partner.  “I’m second-year engineering and let me tell you, when they built these dorms twenty years ago, they did a terrible job. Supplies were limited after the war, and sometimes they cobbled together wires from different places and spliced them together.  Wouldn’t surprise me if a small electrical fire broke out on one of the floors.”</p><p> </p><p>“Logan, look….” I point to an unmarked black van as driving up off the road and through the snow.  We watch as it slowly moves past the students and stops on the side of the building. The side doors open, and four giant Belgian Malinois dogs come out with Security personnel holding their leashes.  “Those are bomb-sniffing dogs.  I recognize the breed.  Dad once tried to convince Mom to take one into our house when it was retired from service.”</p><p> </p><p>“A bomb?”  Leslie  grips her partner’s arm, and they step away from us, eyes wide as they back just a little further from the building.  “There may be a bomb in there?”</p><p> </p><p>“Probably not?”  I shrug, watching as the officers and dogs file one by one through the emergency door we just exited from a few minutes prior.  “My father is with the regional Security Service back home.  These things get called in, but it’s often just a prank.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.  When it’s real, they don’t warn you,” Logan mutters beside me, his arm reaching around my shoulders to hold me close.</p><p> </p><p>“Leslie, we should go and grab something warm to drink while we wait to get back in.  These blankets will only keep us warm for so long,” Kecia states and pulls on Leslie’s hand, her eyes darting back to the building.  “Let’s walk over to the commissary and grab something.”</p><p> </p><p>I can see the fear in her eyes.  She’s worried that the building is going to blow up. That’s probably why we weren’t told when we evacuated.</p><p> </p><p>“Sure.  We’ll do that, baby.” Leslie kisses Kecia’s temple and wraps her arm around her shoulder.  “Would you neighbours like to join us?  It’ll be a lot warmer than standing out here in the snow. Maybe we can get to know each other better than just a hello in the morning?”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re fine, but thanks for the offer,” I state before Logan can respond for us.  “Raincheck?”</p><p> </p><p>“No problem.  See you guys later,” Kecia says, and the women smile and nod at us as they retreat quickly, obviously eager to get away from the building and the cold.</p><p> </p><p>Left alone, Logan pulls me into an embrace, my cheek pressed against the chill of his jacket, and I feel him kiss the top of my head through my hood.  I close my eyes, and for a second, I savour the warmth of being in his arms.</p><p> </p><p>“Logan!  Veronica!” </p><p> </p><p>I pull away from him and turn towards the sound of the voice behind me.  There, trudging through the snow are Duncan and Piz, bundled against the cold.</p><p> </p><p>Duncan waves, and I instinctively wave back.  We were civil enough to each other today during classes, but him showing up on our doorstep again was definitely not expected.</p><p> </p><p>Coming to a halt a few feet from us, Duncan frowns with concern.  “Are you guys okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, we’re fine,” Logan responds. “Thanks for checking in on us.”</p><p> </p><p>“No problem,” Piz states with a nod. “We were walking across campus from the radio station and saw the commotion.  When we saw you guys standing here, Duncan wanted to come and check on you both.”</p><p> </p><p>My heart warms a bit.  Maybe Duncan does care about us a little more than we thought.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s nice of you to be concerned.  Thanks, Duncan,” I reply.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course, I’m concerned.  You and Logan were...are...my friends,” he says, glancing between us.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, we appreciate it.”  Logan kisses my temple, giving my shoulder a squeeze.</p><p> </p><p>“We still care about you, Duncan, and I hope that we can all work together to move past any hurt feelings,” I add.</p><p> </p><p>Duncan purses his lips, his head bowing to look down at the fresh snow beneath our feet. “Yeah.  I think we can.”</p><p> </p><p>Piz slaps Duncan on the back, and Duncan raises his eyes to us both.  There’s something in Duncan’s expression that I can’t place.  It’s not sadness.  Regret?  Longing?  Whatever it is, I can’t put my finger on it, but I know it’s something I haven’t seen before.</p><p> </p><p>“Like I said to Duncan...it’s ridiculous to throw away a friendship over a woman.”  Piz grins, and something in me wishes Logan would punch him in the teeth.  “Especially when that woman belongs to another man.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, first, Veronica doesn’t <em> belong </em> to me…” Logan raises his index finger and takes a step towards Piz, and for a split second, I think my secret wish may come true.</p><p> </p><p>Slipping between Logan and Piz, I hold up my hands to Logan and shake my head. “Nope.  Let it go, Logan.  Not the place or the time.”</p><p> </p><p>I look over my shoulder to see Duncan pull Piz back slightly as if Piz would actually have the guts to advance on Logan and throw the first punch. There’s a definite look of fear on Piz’s face that Logan may mess him up, but when he gets a safe distance from us, it disappears back to his usual smug self.</p><p> </p><p>“Veronica’s right.  A bomb scare isn’t the place to get into a fight, Logan,” Duncan affirms.  “Let’s let things go.”</p><p> </p><p>And suddenly, my brain freezes.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Bomb scare. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em> I didn’t say anything about the bomb scare. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Turning on my heels towards Duncan again, I step towards him.  “How do you know about the bomb?”</p><p> </p><p>Duncan’s eyes widen for a split second before his face sets stone still, his eyes hard and cold as they stare down at me.</p><p> </p><p>“I heard someone say something when we were walking here.”</p><p> </p><p>Stepping closer to him, he stands taller, and I wish for the ability to grow taller in an instant so I can look him dead in the eye.</p><p> </p><p>“No.  No one told us.  I know because I recognize what a bomb-detecting crew looks like.  But how do<em> you </em> know, Duncan?”</p><p> </p><p>Piz grabs Duncan by the back of the jacket and gives him a tug back as Duncan continues to stare at me, his eyes narrowing as he steps backwards.</p><p> </p><p>“Because bomb scares happen all the time on campuses,” Piz states.  “They happened before the war, and they happen after.  Nothing has changed.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Nothing has changed. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>The words stick in my brain and I watch the roommates exchange a mysterious glance as they retreat down the sidewalk.  At the last second, Duncan shifts his gaze between Logan and me once more before turning away as he mutters,  “See you around.”</p><p> </p><p>Watching the two quickly walk down the path towards their dorms, I shiver, not from the cold, but from fear.  Logan’s hand wraps around my waist, and I jump slightly at the contact.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, it’s okay,” he says, his lips lowering to my ear as he whispers.  “Do you think they had something to do with this?”</p><p> </p><p>Exhaling my fear, I watch the white cloud of condensation rise from my mouth, coming between my view of Duncan walking away.</p><p> </p><p>“I hope not.  I really, really hope not.”</p><p> </p><p>-----------------------</p><p> </p><p>I step out of the bathroom and glance at the clock.  It’s almost midnight.  The hot shower helped warm me up from standing outside for over an hour, but it hasn’t settled my nerves.  I still have that anxious, twitchy feeling that comes with being over tired and coming down from the adrenaline rush from all the excitement tonight.  Logan is lying in bed,  textbook open on his lap, and I can’t believe he has the brainpower to comprehend anything tonight.  When he sees me, he slips in a bookmark and closes it, placing the book on his bedside table.</p><p> </p><p>Raising the blanket in invitation, I can see he’s naked underneath.  “Are you coming to get warmed up?”</p><p> </p><p>Unfurling my towel from my body, I toss it towards the laundry hamper and reach for the lights.  In the darkness, I cross the cold room, shivering as I slip under the covers.  He immediately drops the duvet over me and pulls me close to him, my damp skin pressing against his smooth, dry body.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve come to steal all your body heat,” I murmur as I plant a quick kiss on his lips.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re welcome to it.”</p><p> </p><p>When he deepens our kiss, his lips opening, his tongue brushing across mine, any cold in my bones miraculously leaves, replaced by the automatic warmth that comes with being kissed by Logan. For a moment, I’m blissfully content to try and forget about everything we just went through as his fingers stroke my skin, sending little electric tingles of sensation through my naked body.</p><p> </p><p>As he pulls away, I hum with contentment, closing my eyes as we snuggle close together on his pillow.  His fingers trace a languid path up and down my back, and my muscles relax from the tension of the evening.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you really think Duncan had something to do with the bomb threat?”</p><p> </p><p>My eyes spring open to see his eyes filled with concern staring back at me, the whites of his eyes catching the minimal light from between the blinds.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.  I do.  I thought you did too?”</p><p> </p><p>His body tenses against mine as he sucks in a deep breath, slowly exhaling as he answers.  “I don’t know.  I want to believe he didn’t have anything to do with it, but given his track record lately, I don’t know. I mean, what motive would he have?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know…” I begin slowly as I gather my thoughts.  “Maybe to mess with us after what happened on Sunday morning? Maybe to prove something to Piz? Maybe just to show off that he <em> can </em>?"</p><p> </p><p>“So then you think he could have done this specifically against us too? Because that thought had crossed my mind.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think he wants to hurt us, if that’s what you mean,” I state. “But this may be his perverse way of <em> getting back </em> at us for flaunting our compatibility.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s demented,” Logan murmurs, kissing my forehead.  “And terrifying that Duncan may be capable of these antics.”</p><p> </p><p>A ripple of fear passes through me.  He’s right.  It is demented.  And not at all in character.  Or maybe it is.  Who am I to say what could be going on in the mind of someone else. Perhaps this is entirely in character for the Duncan who kept his true nature hidden from us all his life?  Or maybe the appeal of being in control of other people’s lives in completely toxic ways has taken over?</p><p> </p><p>"I guess we'll find out more on Friday," I whisper.  "Once and for all."</p><p> </p><p>His hand stops, flattening against the small of my back.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry for how I spoke to you earlier. Please don’t get me wrong…I do want to help the people who may be caught up in this group, but I don't want to sacrifice <em> your </em> safety to do it."</p><p> </p><p>"I'll be safe, Logan." I plant a soft kiss on his lips, my palm moving to his cheek. "I promise."</p><p> </p><p>"I know that life isn't turning out exactly how you had planned…" he begins, and I stop him with another deep, long kiss.</p><p> </p><p>"No, it's not," I whisper on my retreat. "It's turning out so much <em> better </em> than I imagined."</p><p> </p><p>I slide away from his body to make room for my hand, slipping away from his cheek, along his neck, and down under the blankets, my fingers lightly caressing his skin as I make my way lower and lower. When I reach the tuft of his pubic hair, I stop, pressing my hand to his clenched pelvic muscles.</p><p> </p><p>"It's just you and I now, Logan. The rest of the world doesn't matter. That's why we were partnered because together, we're strong enough to take on this life.  Because whenever we're together now, I feel invincible."</p><p> </p><p>His breath hitches when my hand moves to grasp his hardening cock, fingers clenching around the shaft. Logan's eyes flutter closed as I begin stroking him slowly, and his hand glides over my buttocks, sending little sparks of pleasure through my skin.</p><p> </p><p>What I said is true. Here, in the safety and security of our room, I feel invincible. Logan has relinquished all power in our bed. He waits for my consent for everything we've tried. If I show the slightest resistance, he stops and checks in on me and waits until I'm comfortable to continue. And it makes me feel powerful in a way I could never have imagined. To be completely trusting of someone. To experience such pleasure with the person I love.  To feel wholly and fully connected with Logan is a strange sense of being bonded and simultaneously free.</p><p> </p><p>Logan’s fingers continue their path along my body, and I toss my leg over his hip, opening myself to him as his fingers spread my folds. Just the thought of making love to him again makes me wet. So wet that when his fingers penetrate me, there is no resistance.</p><p> </p><p>"Again," I gasp, my lips hovering near his. "Make love to me again, Logan."</p><p> </p><p>I pump his cock in rhythm to the thrust of his fingers inside me, and we moan in unison before his lips meet mine. There's a gentleness to our kiss, deep and long as we continue to pleasure each other with our hands, slowly making our way towards each other.  When I attacked him after the gym, it was for purely unbridled and selfish reasons, craving the endorphin rush that came with the excitement of bold seduction.  Now it's different.  The twinge in the back of my mind that this bomb could have been real, and we could have died, is pushing me to live in this moment like it could be our last. And if it was our last moment, there is no place I'd rather be than right here, like this, making love to Logan.</p><p> </p><p>Letting out a deep groan, he shifts his hands to my back, pulling me close as he rolls, so I'm now straddling him, still locked in our kiss. Arching away from him, I rise on my knees, shifting his cock in my hand to align with my wet core. My eyes have adjusted in the darkness now, and I watch his face contort with pleasure as I lower myself down onto him, slowly taking him deeper.</p><p> </p><p>Leaning forward, I kiss him again as my body rolls against him, his hands now gripping my hips. </p><p> </p><p>"Take your time," he murmurs in between kisses. "I want this to go on forever."</p><p> </p><p>And so I slow my movements, enjoying every glorious inch of him in my body, keeping us both in a delicious state of pleasure for as long as I can, into the night.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is my last update for about a month, as life is taking precedence over writing right now.  24 weeks of weekly updates was a pretty good roll, I think.  Please subscribe so you get an alert when I start this back up in the fall.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Chapter 25</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We're back to our regularly scheduled posting.  Going to post every Friday until this work is done.  Thanks to my friend and Beta Irma66 for all her help with this chapter.</p><p>TW: Groping</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <b>Veronica</b>
</p><hr/><p>Logan instructs the taxi van to drop us all off about a block away from the warehouse.  And so we all pile out into the street—me, Mac, Parker, Logan, Wallace, and Jeff—after paying the man with the last remaining money on my stipend card. It means that we’ll be eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for a few days until I can get it reloaded, but this is a necessary expense.  Finding out the truth about what is happening with Duncan and Piz, and their involvement with this group, has become an obsession. </p><p>Leading up to this, Duncan has been quiet.  Too quiet.  All week, he’s barely said anything to me, choosing instead to sit near the front of the lecture hall, never turning around. Usually, he would meet Piz for lunch or sit with me, but this week, he’s been returning to his dorm room during that time.  I know because I followed him once when Logan couldn’t meet me for lunch. My impulse was to knock on the door and confront him—accuse him of planning the bomb scare—but I chickened out.  I didn’t want to cause a scene.  It was bad enough to be one half of the Loud Sex Couple in <em> our </em>dorm.  I didn’t want to be the Irrationally Yelling Woman in this dormitory too.</p><p>Turning to the group on the sidewalk, I rub the indentation on my finger where my ring usually sits.  It felt weird not to wear it now.  I actually had to put some make-up on the spot to cover the white band of skin that was underneath, just as a precaution. For a few hours tonight, I was unmatched.  Even if my match was following close behind.</p><p>“We’ll go in first,” I say as Mac and Parker link hands next to me. “Give us five minutes, then you guys follow.  Okay?”</p><p>“We’ll give you two minutes,” Logan says, holding up his fingers in a V. “I don’t like the idea of you guys being in there too long without us.”</p><p>I know he’s worried, but I still want to roll my eyes. “We’ll be fine for the three extra minutes.”</p><p>“Split the difference, and we’ll come in after four.” Wallace chuckles, rubbing his hands together in the cold night.  “I don’t want to become a popsicle while you guys are inside.”</p><p>“Neither do I.  Let’s call it a deal and go.”  Parker turns with Mac, and they start down the street, moving quickly towards the warehouse.  </p><p>I shoot a final glance and a nod at Logan, and he frowns and nods back. His concern sits heavily between us.  He was so quiet and contemplative as we were getting ready. This plan is consuming him. The night before, he tried to convince me not to come, and I shot him down, causing another round of silence. But when he reached for me in the middle of the night, to slowly make love to me, I knew it wasn’t because of any machismo masculine pride that he wanted to do this alone.  I knew it was because the idea of something happening to me filled him with deep fear.</p><p>“It’ll be fine,” I state and then turn, not waiting for his response as I hurry to catch up with the girls.</p><p>A few buildings away, we can hear the heavy bass music thumping against the concrete and brick on the street, and see colourful light flashing through the tempered panes of glass.  We follow the sidewalk towards the front of the building, and even though the lights are off, the sign on the front door says, “Open.” </p><p>Parker reaches into her back pocket under her jacket and pulls out the wrinkled invitation, dropping her arm from Mac’s.  “Are we ready?”</p><p>“As ready as we can be,” I reply with a heavy sigh.</p><p>Pulling open the front door, we are greeted by the dim light from a flashlight and a husky voice from the darkness.</p><p>“Hello, ladies.  Glad you could join us.”</p><p>A shiver runs down my spine, but we push on into the room towards the light. On the other side of the desk is a tall man wearing a blue plaid sports jacket over a baby-blue shirt. He has on an orange nameplate that says ‘Vinnie - Customer Service and Sales’, and when he grins at us, I can see the creases in his skin. He looks to be at least a  generation older than us, which gives me the creeps that he’s at a party that’s supposed to be for college students.</p><p>“Hi!” Parker replies in her perkiest voice as she shoves the invitation his way. “We’re here for the party.”</p><p>“Of course you are,” he smirks, licking his lips, and for a second, I think he’s going to pounce over the desk and eat one of us. “Here’s your stamp.”</p><p>Having never attended a party like this before, none of us know what to do until he grabs Parker’s hand roughly, pulls it toward him, and brings a wooden stamp down on her skin. Her sharp squeak of pain echos as he lifts the seal up to reveal a giant black happy face looking back at us.  The image is so incongruent with the mood that I can’t help but snicker as I hold out the back of my hand. With a wiggle of his eyebrows, Vinnie bangs the stamp onto an ink pad and then smashes it on my hand so hard that I’m sure it will be bruised under the face tomorrow, and I wince, not giving him the satisfaction of yelling.  When he does it for Mac, there’s a look in her eye that makes me think she may pull her hand away just for kicks, but she takes her stamp with nary a flinch.</p><p>“You’re good.  The stamp gets you one free drink at the bar,” he states, jerking his hand towards a solid black door just a few feet away.  “Enjoy.”</p><p>“Thanks,” I mutter and start towards the door.  The girls follow, and together we step through the doorway into a well-lit hall.  On the right are the women’s washrooms, on the left are the men’s, and at the end are the lights and sounds of the party, already in full swing.  </p><p>Emerging into the open warehouse area, we stop and scan the room, taking in the party. The concrete floor is stained with black blotches that look like oil, and thick chains still hang from the tall metal rafters, catching the flashing lights.  The thick concrete walls ricochet with the sound of the music, so the entire room seems to vibrate as the thumping hits the thick panes of glass located high on the walls. There’s the faint aroma of industrial cleaning products and the acetic bite of metal, probably permanently embedded into the structure from decades of previous use.  At the far end to the left is a small makeshift stage, with Piz perched on top, spinning his party tunes.  It’s actually not bad, and I find myself bobbing my head to the old-school dance music from the 1980s, with its electronic beats and catchy lyrics.  On our right, against one wall, is a bar that looks like it was salvaged from some fancy old casino; it’s red lacquer and black leather with little flashing lights around the edge.  Behind it is a big fridge filled with cans of drinks.  Throughout the room are men and women mingling and talking.  Some are dancing, others are sitting on folding chairs scattered throughout the space.  There looks to be about a hundred people—mainly men but also women—and I’m shocked that there are this many unmatched people in the area, looking for partners on their own and not just waiting for <em> Orwell </em> to set their future. </p><p>“Veronica?”</p><p>I spin around to find Duncan standing behind me and I suck in a sharp breath in shock.  He must have been in the men’s bathroom when we arrived.  I had expected to see him—just not this soon.</p><p>“Hey, Duncan!” I say, as chipper as I can manage. “What are you doing here?”</p><p>“What am <em> I </em> doing here?  What are <em> you </em> doing here?” he responds, incredulous, confusion crossing his face. “This is for single people.”</p><p>“Yeah!  And these are my two single friends.” I gesture towards Parker and Mac and they smile and wave.  “Parker got an invitation from Piz, and I just figured I would join them for a night out. A little dancing.  Maybe a drink or two…”</p><p>His eyes dart between us for a second before fixing on Parker.  The thought crosses my mind that he may go and get that Vinnie guy to kick us out, but his scowl turns to a grin, and he offers his hand to her.</p><p>“I’m Duncan.  I think I’ve seen you around campus a few times.”</p><p>“Yeah.  You have.  I’m Parker.  Nice to meet you.” Parker plasters on a huge grin and shakes his hand, and I finally exhale.</p><p>“Why don’t we get our drinks,” I suggest and start to walk away from the entrance, knowing Logan and his gang were going to be arriving in a second.</p><p>“Yes!  Let’s do that.  Are you coming with us, Duncan?” Parker says as she skips over to join me, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she moves.</p><p>
  <em> Damn, she was good.  </em>
</p><p>“Yeah.  Sure!” he answers and catches up, falling into sync with her as she walks.  </p><p>Mac joins me on my left, and she rolls her eyes as I stifle a giggle.  There’s a line for the bar, and we all fall in.  Even with the chilly Fall night, I’m starting to get warm already in the heat of the warehouse, and I shrug off my jacket and sweater, revealing my pink camisole and jeans. Parker does the same, but she’s chosen a black off-the-shoulder stretchy top to go with her pleather pants.  Mac refused to “dress up” for this event, and as such, is in a t-shirt and baggy jeans.</p><p>Duncan's eyes fall immediately to Parker’s ample breasts, perky and braless under the shirt, and I shake my head.  If nothing else, at least Parker would provide a good distraction for him while I checked out the place.  They begin to chat about classes, and I can barely make out what they are saying above the din of the music.</p><p>On the surface, everyone looks happy.  I scan the small group of women hanging out near the bar, and they are all chatting and laughing as if they don’t have a care in the world.  The men are keeping a respectful distance and even the ones who are dancing seem to be enjoying each other’s company.</p><p>For now, I relax. Maybe I was reading too much into things. Perhaps this was all a figment of my imagination. My father always said I was good at making up stories when I was little. It could be my brain just spinning another tale.</p><p>When the line clears, I approach the bar and show the bartender my stamp.  “Great! What’ll you have?” he yells above the music, smiling broadly.</p><p>“Just soda, please,” I shout back, and he gives me the thumbs up. </p><p>Swivelling, he grabs a red can from the fridge, opens it, and places it on the bar.  As I go to pick it up, he takes a marker and sweeps it across my happy face.</p><p>“That was your free one,” he hollers, and I nod.</p><p>“Thanks!”</p><p>Stepping away from the bar, I glance back towards the entrance as everyone else gets their drinks and spy Logan, Wallace, and Jeff as they enter. They, too, are captivated by it all and stand at the end of the hallway, taking it all in.</p><p>“Well, hello there…”</p><p>I jump, startled by the deep voice behind me and turn to see a man with dark piercing eyes looking down at me.  When he smiles, his eyebrow arches in a way that creeps me out, and I step back ever so slightly.</p><p>“Um, hello.”  I can barely get the words out.  Immediately, Mac is by my side, clutching my arm protectively.</p><p>“Hey!” she says with forced enthusiasm.  “Cool party, huh!”</p><p>“Thanks!” the man thunders at us. “I organized it, so I take that as a compliment.”</p><p>“Veronica.  Mac.  This is my friend, Gory Sorokin.” </p><p>Duncan steps next to us with Parker, and Gory’s sight shifts from me to her.  His eyes skim her body in a way that makes my stomach tighten, and I hold on to Mac a little tighter.</p><p>“Duncan!  I didn’t know you knew so many lovely ladies,” Gory says, running his fingers through his thick dark hair, his attention coming back to me.  </p><p>“Veronica and I are friends from high school, and she came with friends,” Duncan states. “Piz invited all of them.”</p><p>As he takes a sip of his beer, Gory nods at me, his smile growing wider. “Well, maybe by the end of the night, she’ll be my friend too. Would you like to dance?”</p><p>He offers his hand, and for a second, I balk before taking it with my right hand, trying to hide any markings left by my ring.  When I take it, he chuckles and kisses my knuckles, and now I’m really uncomfortable. But he’s the mastermind behind all of this.  If anyone knows anything, it’s him.  It’s just a matter of how much I can get from him in a place like this.</p><p>Turning to Mac, I hand her my drink and my jacket. “Watch this for me, will you?”</p><p>She nods, her eyes big with fear as I walk away with Gory, onto the dance floor.  As we walk, I catch sight of Logan, near a darkened corner of the room, staring at me like he’s about to stride over and punch this guy in the face.  Pursing my lips, I shake my head slightly, in silent communication, making sure he stays put.  His response is to pull off his jacket and toss it over a chair, turning his back to me as Wallace and Jeff continue to watch my progression.</p><p>I realize that Gory is leading me too close to Piz, and so I stop, pulling on his hand, and he jerks around.  His white dress shirt is open a few extra buttons, and I can see his chest hair peeking through. The whole scene reminds me of some messed up movie from my mother’s youth—the kind she used to show me in junior high school while I picked out all the misogynist and racist tropes. He grips my hand and pulls me close to him as the music starts to change from a fast-paced one to a slower tempo.  His other hand drops to my waist, and he squeezes so tightly that I’m sure there’ll be bruising tomorrow.  Trying to play along, I drape one hand over his shoulder and gather myself to allow him to touch me for the next five minutes.</p><p>“So…you organized this party?”  I coo, trying to play things cool. “My friend Parker invited me, so I don’t know much.”</p><p>Gory grins down at me and guides my body closer to his.  He smells like cheap cologne and beer, and I mentally start counting the seconds until this is over.</p><p>“Yeah.  This is all me.  I’m the President of the Chicago chapter of C.H.A.D. My family owned this warehouse before the government fucked them over.  But the joke is on them…no one ever used it, so I just used my keys and fixed it up for this purpose.”</p><p>“Oh.  Wow,” I say and glance around. “So I take it you’re not a fan of the New Democracy.”</p><p>Gory scoffs and pulls me harder against his body, and I can feel his erection through his pants.  Sweat pools on the back of my neck as I start to realize precisely what I may have gotten myself into with a dance.</p><p>“That’s an understatement.  My family was rich before they took it all away.  Now we don’t even have the privilege of a good home; just some shanty they stuck us in before I was born.  They lost everything, and to add insult to injury, they tried to match me with some dark-skinned girl from the Southern zone.  Like I’d ever partner with that.” I’m at a complete loss for words. This type of hate was not at all what I was expecting, and so out of fear and shock, I let him ramble some more. “That’s why I got involved with this group. I want to pick the kind of woman I want.” He licks his lips and grins down at me.  “Someone white and blond and pure…”</p><p>I wriggle away from him a bit, but he’s too strong, and he pulls me back to him.  The juxtaposition of the romantic song filling the room, as other couples dance near us, with the fear that is now shaking through me is throwing my brain off balance.  All I know is I need to get away from Gory.  Now.</p><p>“You know, that sounds great,” I say, as I try and squirm away from his hard fly. “I’m sure you’ll find that girl eventually.”</p><p>“Veronica!  Baby!” Logan steps into my periphery, and Gory stops cold, staring him in the eye. “I can’t believe you’re here!”</p><p>“You know this girl?” Gory spits.</p><p>And then it happens. The jackass grin that taunted me all through school crosses Logan’s face. “Oh, I know this girl.  Intimately, if you know what I mean.” He arches his eyebrow at me and winks. “We hooked up a time or two in high school.  I just can’t believe that we met again here.”</p><p>“Interesting.” Gory stares down at me as I blush.</p><p>“What can I say.  I wanted to try out some of those positions we all read about.” </p><p>Taking my chance, I slip away from Gory, and I’m surprised he allows me.  Instantly, Logan’s arm is around my waist, pulling me closer to him as his lips dip near my ear.</p><p>“We should get reacquainted, Vee.  It’s been too long.”</p><p>My eyes flutter as the warmth of his breath passes over my cheek, and he holds me close.  Safe.  I feel safe again. With his arm around me tightly, I know that he won’t let Gory anywhere near me again tonight.  Not without blood being shed.</p><p>“You’re welcome to her.” Gory chuckles and steps away, holding up his palms. “I like mine new and tight, if you know what I mean.”</p><p>The bile that rises in my throat tells me that I know precisely what the asshole means, and I pity whatever women found themselves in his bed.</p><p>“Good luck with that,” I state and wave my fingers in the air at him as he walks away, chuckling to himself.</p><p>Logan wastes no time in pulling me close.  He makes his hug seem like we’re dancing, and we start to move in small circles as the song changes.</p><p>“You aren’t leaving my sight again,” he states firmly.  “Got it?”</p><p>I want to argue.  I want to tell him I’m capable of handling myself.  But I can’t.  Where we are, doesn’t play by the same rules as outside.  Here, I need to let him help me to keep us all safe until I find out what the hell is happening here.</p><hr/><p>
  <b>Logan</b>
</p><hr/><p>I’m so fucking mad.  I’m mad at Veronica.  I’m mad at Duncan.  And I’m super mad at whoever the asshole was that I just chased off from groping her on the dance floor.  Why did she have to be so stubborn and try and do this alone?  Thank God I didn’t listen and insisted we come.  It’s like this place is filled with carbon copies of Aaron.  There are still so many more men to women at this party that it creeps me out, but so far, it seems like the women are having fun. Mercifully, Veronica’s back was turned when one of them hit on me, but I promptly turned the woman down to focus on her and Gory.  </p><p>“You’re being quiet,” she says, her head resting against my chest as we dance. “But your heart is racing.”</p><p>“Adrenaline.  Just staying ready in case I have to crack any skulls tonight.”</p><p>“Logan….”</p><p>“Veronica….”</p><p>She raises her eyes to me, and I frown.  As she opens her mouth to speak, I release her from our dance and grab her hand.</p><p>“Not here,” I mutter and drag her back to Mac, who is standing near some chairs beside Parker and Duncan. “We’re going home.”</p><p>Squinting at me, Duncan frowns. “Logan?”</p><p>“Yeah.  Later,” I state and grab Veronica's jacket from the pile on the chair. “Right now, we have to go.”</p><p>“What?  No, we don’t!” She wrenches her hand away from mine and steps back. “You can’t just burst in here and dictate what’s going to happen.”</p><p>“I can if I see you dancing with some creep that’s trying to fuck you!”</p><p>The group gasps, and I instantly regret my words.  Veronica’s lip curls as she snarls back at me.</p><p>“While I appreciate your help, he wasn’t going to fuck me, you idiot. We’re in the middle of a party!  What the hell is wrong with you?”</p><p>“Look, I know that kind of guy!  It doesn’t matter if <em> you </em> don’t want to fuck, he’s going to find a way to fuck you, whether you want it or not.”</p><p>The implication of my words makes her gasp, and for a second, I think I’ve gotten through to her.  But then, she throws me a harsh glare and grabs her jacket from my hands.</p><p>“I’m going to freshen up,” she yells, glancing at Parker and Mac. </p><p>As she stalks off, the girls follow close behind, the lights from the room flashing across their bodies as they move.  When they disappear into the hallway, I heave a heavy sigh and turn around towards Duncan.</p><p>“What the fuck was that, dude?” he asks and wanders over to me.  </p><p>Rubbing my hands with my face, I shake my head.  “I honestly don’t know, Duncan.  I really don’t.”</p><hr/><p>
  <b>Veronica</b>
</p><hr/><p>The bathroom door bangs against the wall as I push it open and let out a growl of frustration.  This was not the plan.  An argument with Logan was definitely not the plan at all.  Finding out what the fuck was happening—that was the plan—and I feel like we aren’t going to find out anything at all tonight.</p><p>Walking over to the far sink, I stop and stare at my reflection.  After being touched by Gory, I feel gross, and all I want to do is take a hot shower to wash the scent of him off me.  No one has ever handled me like that, and my entire body feels icky.</p><p>Is this how it really was, back in the time that my mother would have been going to parties and bars?  What did she warn me about?  It seemed as though Gory felt that those were probably the good old days when his family was wealthy and he would be able to do whatever he wanted with women.  But it wasn’t that anymore. At least, that was what we were told.</p><p>“You okay?”  Mac places her hand on my shoulder, and I twitch at the feeling of another person touching me.</p><p>“Yes.  No.  I just feel all….” My whole body shimmies and shakes in revulsion at the thought of Gory’s hard body pressed against me. “Blah. Just blah.”</p><p>“He’s a pretty gross guy,” Parker concurs, leaning against the edge of the sink next to me. “We saw him groping you on the dance floor.  I was pretty sure Duncan was about to jump to your defence, but then he saw Logan cross the room and do it instead.”</p><p>“Uhg.  Did Duncan say anything about the fact that Logan and I didn’t arrive together?”</p><p>Parker grins. “Yeah.  I said you guys were doing some kinky sexy role-playing and came separately to pretend and hook up.”</p><p>I cringe.  It was a good lie, but right now, the thought of hooking up with anyone, including my own partner, is unappealing.</p><p>“What did he say?”</p><p>“He kind of made the face you just did and then went back to asking me about my classes.” Parker shrugs. “Duncan actually seems like a nice guy.”</p><p>“He is a nice guy.  Was a nice guy. In high school, he was one of my best friends.  And honestly, everything that has been happening is so out of character from the guy I once knew, that it makes me even more suspicious of what’s going on.”</p><p>“I mean, we haven’t been here too long, Veronica, but when I was looking around, it just seems like people who weren’t matched are hooking up.  That’s it.”</p><p>Turning to the mirror, I shake my head at my own reflection. Maybe I was wrong. “I don’t know. Maybe…”</p><p>A loud sniffle ricochets in the room, and someone blows their nose. The girls and I look at each other and then to the closed bathroom stall.  Shit.  Someone was in here with us.</p><p>“Ummm…hello?” Mac calls, and another sniffle fills the room.</p><p>Slowly, the grey metal door opens, and a petite brunette emerges, in jeans and a tight red sweater. A wad of toilet paper is balled in her hand, and her pale skin is puffy and red from crying. It takes her a second to make eye contact, but when we do, I realized that I’ve seen her before.</p><p>“I’m sorry, but I think I know you…” The name is on the tip of my brain, but I can’t really remember.</p><p>“I’m Susan. Susan Knight.  We were in the same high school for a while before I transferred. You’re Veronica Mars.  I recognized you immediately when I saw you on the dance floor.  And your name is hard to forget.”</p><p>My eyes grow wide at the revelation.  Now, it all came together.  Susan was part of a crowd of girls that Lilly and I didn’t hang out with much—artistic, smart, and savage.  Susan and her buddies kept to themselves, mainly because they didn’t much like others.  But there was something else about her.</p><p>“You were partnered with Eli Navarro…” I murmur, forgetting to keep the thought in my head.</p><p>She wipes a tear from her eye and nods.  “Yeah.  I was.  But my family forced me to reject him.”</p><p>“What?”  The three of us gasp in unison.</p><p>Susan shrugs. “I had to.  And I’ve regretted it every day since.”</p><p>I feel like I should say something or hug her, but I’m frozen to my spot. A reason was never given to Eli about why his match rejected him, causing him to spiral for several months into a deep, dark depression. At one point, Lilly told me she had heard that teachers had to intervene when he arrived at school, drunk and angry.  Apparently, he may have had reason to drink.</p><p>“If you regretted it, then why did you do it?” I ask, folding my arms across my chest, hugging my jacket to my body.</p><p>“I had no choice,” Susan replies quietly, just loud enough to be heard about the hum of the music outside. “My parents said if I partnered with him, they would never speak to me again.  They would cut me off from my little sister. They said they wouldn’t even let me take my stuff—they would just kick me out and leave me with him.”</p><p>“But Eli is a nice guy,” I state. “He’s smart and hilarious and passionate about engineering….”</p><p>“And brown,” Susan adds. “My parents wouldn’t let me partner with him because his family is Hispanic. They said that being partnered with him was a government plot to muddy American blood. My ancestors came over on the Mayflower.  My father was so livid when he found out.  My mother just cried.”</p><p>Now I was really sick. Covering my mouth with the back of my hand, I choke back the rising juices churning up from my stomach.  So much hate.  So much racism.  It was like the entryway to this party was a portal to take people back in time.</p><p>“That’s terrible,” Mac offered, placing a comforting hand on Susan’s shoulder. “You obviously didn’t feel the same.”</p><p>“No!  That’s why I’ve been coming to these stupid C.H.A.D. meetings—to find someone.  I rejected my one heterosexual match, and now I have to find someone on my own,” she sniffles, her eyes filling with tears. “But Gory and the rest of them are crazy, and I can’t take it anymore.”</p><p>“Crazy?  How crazy?” Parker asks. “Like, normal dumbass crazy?  Or, sell-you-for-sex-slavery?”</p><p>Susan gasps, and I press my palm to my forehead.  It was a good thing Parker wasn’t fixing to be a lawyer —she lacked any subtly. </p><p>“I…I don’t know if I should say,” Susan whispers, glancing towards the door.</p><p>“On it.” Mac steps across the room and places the heel of her boot at the bottom lip of the door, leaning her body into it.  “Okay.  We’re secure.  Tell us what you know.”</p><p>“It’s okay, Susan,” I say, mustering whatever calm I can. “You can tell us.”</p><p>She releases a heavy sigh and steps towards Parker and me. Her nervous glance moves back and forth between us and Mac at the door.</p><p>“At first, I thought Gory and his friends were like my parents—racist and still angry about the war.  But then I realized that it was more than that.  Gory is connected to something bigger. I tried dating him for a while, and he always had a second stipend card that he used, that had an X on it.  When I asked why he had two, he said he didn’t want the government tracking his purchases.” Susan pauses, her eyes wide as she checks at the door again before proceeding. “But then, last week, I went over to his place, and there was some sort of meeting happening. He said I could stay if I locked myself in the bedroom.  Well, I did, but I could still hear them talking about convincing some of the members to set off bombs around town.”</p><p>Perspiration bursts from my pores, and my mouth goes dry.  This was so much more than I thought.  This was so much worse than I could imagine.</p><p>“C.H.A.D. is a terrorist group,” I whisper in shock.</p><p>“They haven't done anything yet.” Susan places her palms up in defence. “But I think they’re planning on doing something soon, but I don't know where or when.”</p><p>“What did you do after that?” I ask, pressing on.</p><p>“I waited for Gory, and we had sex, and when we were done, I left.  I called him the next day and told him I decided to pursue someone else. We were by no means exclusive, so he agreed, and that was the end of it.  That’s why I’m here tonight.  But it was a mistake.” She sighs. “I saw him dancing with you, and earlier with some other girls, and I knew it was a mistake.  Not because I’m in love with him or anything, but I realized that it was all just bad news.”</p><p>“Why haven’t you gone to the police?” I continue. “They could do something.”</p><p>“With what evidence?” Susan shrugs and rolls her eyes. “They won’t believe me.”</p><p>“They’ll believe you!” I state and grab her upper arm. “You have to go to them, Susan.  Lives may be at stake.”</p><p>She wrenches her arm away from being and stumbles towards the door. “No way. I’m not getting involved. If you want to do it, that’s fine, Veronica.  I’m not getting mixed up in anything having to do with Gory ever again.”</p><p>“Susan!” I walk quickly after her, but she reaches the door first, and Mac steps aside, allowing her to grab the handle.</p><p>“No way, Veronica.  Just leave me out of it.” Susan pulls the door open, almost hitting Mac in the process, before disappearing into the hallway.</p><p>I move to follow, but then I realize Logan’s leaning against the wall across from the bathroom, and I stop my pursuit, letting my gaze fall to his.  His dark eyes are filled with sadness, and I know in my heart that he regrets tonight almost as much as I do.</p><p>I reach for his hand, and when he reaches back, my heart starts to flutter.  There were discussions that needed to happen.  Things that needed to be said.  But for now, I knew what we needed.</p><p>“I changed my mind. Take me home.  Please, Logan.  Just take me home.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Chapter 26</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <b>Logan</b>
</p><hr/><p>The cab ride home was quiet.  Too quiet. Veronica, Parker, and Mac all seemed shaken by whatever it was they learned and didn’t want to share it with us, in case the taxi driver overheard. So instead, we all sat in virtual silence on the long ride home.  Veronica huddled next to me, holding on to my hand for dear life.  Even though she didn’t say much, I could see behind her eyes that she was thinking about whatever was said, either by Gory or the girl I saw bolt from the Women’s bathroom before they came out.</p><p>When we got back to campus, one by one, we all dispersed to our homes.  Parker and Mac hugged Veronica, murmuring to each other before we walked back to the dorm.  As we trudged back, I hoped that once we were safely in our room, Veronica could confide in me the details of what happened.</p><p>As we enter the darkness of the room, I turn on the lights as she sheds her warm winter wear, tossing it onto the chair as she makes her way across the room to close the drapes over the blinds, shutting out the rest of the world completely.</p><p>I take off my boots and jacket but keep my eyes on her as she folds her arms over her chest and begins pacing the room, waiting for me before she starts her explanation.</p><p>“So, are you going to tell me now what you learned?” I ask, walking up to her, and she flinches, stepping away from my touch.</p><p>“Yes. But can you sit on the bed?” She hugs herself tighter, and I know something is going on in her head that I can’t quite place. “I just need some space.  I’m sorry.”</p><p>Nodding, I step away, lowering myself obediently onto the edge of the bed.</p><p>“What’s wrong, Veronica? What happened?”</p><p>With a heavy sigh, she shakes her head. “I was wrong about the group.  So wrong.”</p><p>“How were you wrong?”</p><p>Shivering, Veronica looks up at the ceiling and exhales loudly. “C.H.A.D. is not a front for some sex trafficking ring. I was wrong about that.”</p><p>“Okay….but by the way, Gory was grabbing you, I would say you weren’t wrong about everything. He’s still the scum bag we had him pegged as before we even met him.”</p><p>Disgust curls Veronica's lip as she lowers her eyes to the ground, still avoiding my gaze. “Yes, well, that’s true.  But it seems as though C.H.A.D. is a front for a good, old fashioned, racist terrorist group.”</p><p>My mouth goes dry, my lips parting without finding the words to fill the space.  This can’t be right.  Duncan couldn’t really have gotten himself messed up in something this ludicrous. </p><p>“Wait…what?”</p><p>“Yep.  You heard me right,” she sighs and begins to pace the floor again. “The girl we were talking to in the bathroom was Susan Knight—you may remember her from school?”</p><p>Susan Knight. Pretty. Dark hair. Sat behind me in Natural Sciences for two years and giggled with her friends. That was my vague recollection of her.</p><p>“That’s who that was? Sure, I remember her, a bit.  I didn’t realize she was going to school here.  So what’d she say?”</p><p>“Well, it sounds like she’s been involved with Gory for a while. Completely consensual, but still creepy and icky.” She shivers again, but this time she looks like she may throw up at any moment. “She overheard him and some C.H.A.D. members talking about bombing some places in Chicago.  But she didn’t hear when or where.”</p><p>Bombs.  Not fake bombs like the bomb scare we experienced.  She’s talking real bombs by real people. As if we were still in the war. It takes me a second to process what she’s saying and link it to everything else, but when I do, fear spreads through me, cold and unyielding.</p><p>“Oh my God, Veronica.  We have to talk to someone with the Regional Security System. Tonight.”</p><p>“We do, Logan. But not yet.  Not tonight.”</p><p>“Wait?  What? Why not?”  I stand, and she freezes, her eyes narrowing with conviction.</p><p>“We have to make sure that Duncan isn’t part of it first, or they’ll send him to prison.”</p><p>“Veronica! Listen to yourself!” I hiss, walking up to her, and she stands straighter, puffing up her chest as if to make herself bigger in my presence. “If Duncan got himself mixed up with terrorists, then he’s on his own. He deserves to be in prison.”</p><p>“We don’t know if he is, though!” she snaps back. “He deserves the benefit of the doubt.”</p><p>“No, he doesn’t!” My voice rises, and I check myself to make sure no one hears us arguing at this late hour in the dorm. “Veronica, while your loyalty to our friend is commendable, you cannot save him from his own foolish mistakes anymore. If he got himself mixed up in this, then he needs to suffer the consequences.”</p><p>“Logan!  We owe it to him.  We owe it to Lilly. We’re supposed to watch out for him…”</p><p>“Yes!  And that’s what we’ve done!” I drag my hands across my face and moan in frustration. “He is not a child! And neither are we.  This isn’t Duncan getting in trouble for drinking his father’s beer. This is Duncan getting himself mixed up with terrorists! There’s a difference between the two!”</p><p>“I know there’s a difference!” Veronica spits back, her arms now flailing as she speaks. “I know there’s a goddamn difference! But what if it were you or me making a mistake?  I would hope that I had a friend good enough to help get me out before it was too late.  We’re all making mistakes in our lives, Logan.  All of us. But we shouldn’t have to lose our life because of it.”</p><p>“Yes!  Yes, we should! Because if I got myself mixed up with  terrorists, I would want you to turn my sorry ass in before I killed someone.”  I poke myself in the forehead and lean toward her as she scowls at me. “Something is not right in Duncan’s head right now. He needs help. The kind of help you and I can’t give him. And the only way he’s going to get that help is if we turn him in.”</p><p>“Give me a chance to talk to him,” Veronica states cooly, her arms crossing again.</p><p>“So you can do what? Get him to see the error of his ways?” I toss my hands up in the air and walk away, feeling the need to pace as well. “Because from where I was standing, that conversation you had with Gory went <em> spectacularly </em>.”</p><p>Spinning around, I catch the look of horror that crosses her face, and I immediately know I went too far. For a split second, I think she’s going to burst into tears, but she rights herself, choosing instead to curl her lip and snarl at me.</p><p>“Fuck you.”</p><p>With that, she retreats, darting into the bathroom and slamming the door. My entire body is vibrating with anger again, and my fists ball at my side as I try to hold off punching something. This unwavering sense of loyalty she has towards Duncan is both admirable and annoying, and for a second, I wish that when Duncan didn’t get matched with her, he just evaporated instead; disappeared in a puff of smoke.  Or, at the very least, that <em> Orwell </em>would have the decency to send him to another college. But here we were, trying to figure out our lives together, and Duncan’s as well.</p><p>To make matters worse, the image of Gory with his hands on Veronica makes me want to take a taxi back to the party and beat him within an inch of his life. There’s a need for bloodshed in me right now that’s so strong, I can almost taste it.  The way he looked at her—like he would have taken her right there if he had the chance. The way he touched her like she was just an object to be manipulated as he saw fit—the complete and utter disregard he had for her that reminds me so much of my father. How my father objectifies my mother.  The misogynist way he talks about the women around him on sets, smiling to their faces, but cutting behind their backs. The way he sees everyone as just puppets for him to manipulate and pull their strings. And when I saw Gory’s hands all over Veronica, all I could see was my father’s head, superimposed on Gory’s body.</p><p>This is all too much right now.  Too much to think about.  Too much to decide.</p><p>Walking over to my dresser, I open the top drawer and dig around to find a pair of socks, balled up at the back.  Pulling it out, I roll the one sock open to retrieve a small carton and lighter. Pushing back the top, I take out one spliff and put it to my lips. I can hear the water running in the shower, which means I have at least 15 minutes to calm myself down before the inevitable round two of this argument begins. As I ball my stash back in my sock and shove it in the drawer, I breathe in the sweet scent of the pot mixed with tobacco as it hangs off my lip. I bought the pack from the dispensary when Veronica and I weren’t talking for a week. She never knew that the small hit of weed before I came home made her nights of silence that much more bearable. And the legal stuff was so much better than the illegal stuff I was used to before I turned of age.</p><p>Crossing the room, I pull on my boots, leaving the laces untied, and toss my jacket on over my shoulders.  I had just enough time to go downstairs, take a few drags, and come back up.  Hopefully, the shower will calm her as much as this will comfort me.</p><hr/><p>
  <b>Veronica</b>
</p><hr/><p>The hottest shower cannot erase the feeling of Gory’s hands on me. As I stand under the water, I close my eyes and try to erase the thought of him from my memory. No one’s ever touched me like that before, at least not without my consent. Logan has left his share of bruises on me since we began having sex—round fingerprint marks on my skin that he later points out and we laugh about. But nothing like this.  It makes me think that even though all our schools follow the same course of study across the country, that Gory was taught something very different away from school, in his home. It’s something that I don’t fully understand—how we can all learn precisely the same thing, but interpret it differently. Even with Logan and his problems at home with his father, he still seems to realize that Aaron was in the wrong, and what he should absorb and learn was that which was set out by our teachers.</p><p>My father once said that there will always be people who wished for the days before the war. No matter how hard we fought, it was the way things worked.  A person’s nature from birth was one thing, but how that human was treated throughout their life made as much of a difference as their DNA. Which was why <em> Orwell </em>judged us on our genetics and aptitudes. There was no way to separate the two. After all, there was a reason for everything.</p><p>The water starts to run cold, and so I turn off the taps, stepping out into the steam-filled room and grab a towel, wrapping it around myself. I still feel disgusting. It’s hard to imagine that men used to handle women the way Gory touched me. That it was all right.  That it was encouraged.</p><p>As my stomach twists at the thought, I open the door, releasing the steam into the chill of the room and hope that Logan has calmed down from our argument. The fact that we were arguing in the first place was ridiculous, and all I want to do now is get into warm clothes and go to sleep.</p><p>Stepping over to my dresser, I look around. I’m alone.</p><p>“Logan?”</p><p>For a second, I have the strangest feeling like he’s going to jump out and scare me as if we’re in junior high school again. But then I realize that his boots and jacket are gone.</p><p>“Must have gone for a walk,” I murmur and reach into my drawers, pulling out a pair of sleep shorts.</p><p>Glancing around, I realize that his hoodie is over the back of his desk chair, and I close the drawer before padding across the room.  I let the towel drop to the floor and grab the hoodie, pulling it over my head before stepping into my sleep shorts. My hair is still dripping wet, and I fling the hood over my head, using the fabric to dry my hair a little.</p><p>Walking over to the window, I pull back the curtains and peek through the blinds, trying to see if I can spot Logan on the sidewalk below.  There are fresh footprints in the snow, but they could have been made by anyone.  That’s when I hear his key in the door, and I turn to greet him.</p><p>“Hey!”</p><p>His eyes look up at me and quickly look away.  “Hey,” he mutters back.</p><p>Fixing the curtains back to being closed, I start to walk towards him and suddenly stop, my nose wrinkling at the smell coming in with him from the hallway.</p><p>“Did…did a skunk follow you home?”</p><p>Pulling his hood off his head, he looks up at me, and that’s when I see his glassy, bloodshot eyes. “Veronica….”</p><p>“Are you kidding me?” My hands go up in defence as I walk back away from him.</p><p>“I needed to calm down,” he states in a monotone as he toes off his boots. “This was the fastest way I knew how.”</p><p>I click my tongue on the roof of my mouth as I watch him slowly remove his jacket and drop it on mine.  Now the room is not only moist from the steam from the bathroom, but it smells like weed too.</p><p>“You can’t control your emotions like an adult?” I snip, crossing my arms over my chest.</p><p>Logan’s lids are heavy, and he purses his lips as he shakes his head. “No.  Sometimes I can’t. ‘Specially not when some guy is groping the woman I love.”</p><p>I can’t help the snort that rises from me as I roll my eyes. “You didn’t have to defend me. I can take care of myself.”</p><p>This time, he snorts and rolls his eyes, pulling his sweater over his head and tossing it towards the laundry hamper.</p><p>“Bullshit.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>A smart-ass smile spreads across his lips, and his eyes narrow as he points his index finger at me.</p><p>“Bull.  Shit. I saw how afraid you were with Gory. And you had every right to be. If he’s a terrorist, then you had no business being around him in the first place.  You and this stupid idea to find out about C.H.A.D.” He waves his fingers around dramatically and rolls his eyes.</p><p>“Don’t give me shit!  You wanted to find out what they were up to too!”</p><p>He mutters something incoherent and pulls his t-shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor, and I try and ignore how hot he is in just his black jeans and nothing else and focus on the fact that he’s stoned and I’m angry.</p><p>“Then you should have let me and Wallace do it. Not you. You shouldn’t have put yourself in that position, Veronica.”</p><p>Rage shoots through me so hot and blinding that I feel like I could punch something or someone. “Are you saying that I should have <em> let the men </em> handle this, Logan?  Are you saying I <em> deserved </em> what Gory did?  Because that’s what it sounds like.”</p><p>“No!” he snaps back, but his words have lost their bite in the haze of the pot.  Rubbing his face with his hands, he shakes his head and moans. “That’s not what I meant at all.”</p><p>“Then what did you mean?  Tell me!” I step up to him, crossing my arms again, so I don’t accidentally smack him when I talk with my hands.</p><p>“I mean that I don’t want to lose you, okay?” As he removes his hands from his face, I realize his eyes are even glassier, with tears now, and my anger starts to subside. “It means that the thought that you almost got wrapped up in something with someone as terrible as Gory Sorokin, without me or anyone else really as back-up, terrifies me to my core because if he would touch you like that in front of people…” He takes in a shaky breath and the last of my anger disappears. “…then I don’t even want to imagine what he would do to you if he got you alone.”</p><p>Logan reaches out his hand to cradle my cheek, and I close my eyes, my hand reaching up to cover his as I savour his tenderness.</p><p>“I love you, Veronica,” he continues, and I open my tired eyes to meet his. “But I know men like that.  I could have been a man like that. Because that’s the kind of man my father is. And I don’t want to be that man, and I certainly don’t want you around that man either.”</p><p>I kiss his palm, and he steps up to me, wrapping his arms around my body and pulling me close.  He smells of sweat and skunk, but he’s also warm and calming, and I can’t help but relax into his grasp.  For a moment, we linger in each other’s arms, forgetting that we were just fighting.</p><p>“You’re pretty eloquent for someone who is higher than a kite,” I murmur and kiss his pec before pressing my cheek to his skin.</p><p>“I’m actually not that high. Only smoked half to take the edge off of life.” He pulls his hood off my hair and kisses the top of my head. “I’m sorry I am, though. Everything feels like we’re in a cloud, and I shouldn’t have done it. Not now.”</p><p>“You’re right about the cloud. I may have put the shower on too hot, and the steam filled up this room. So, it’s not just the pot making you feel that way.”</p><p>“Good to know.” He kisses my head again, and I focus on the rhythm of his heartbeat next to my ear.</p><p>“Lilly once told me you used pot to sleep.  Is that true?”</p><p>Logan sighs and shrugs, shifting his arms to hold me closer. “I used to.  A lot. Helped me with my nightmares.”</p><p>“But now…?”</p><p>“Funny thing—I don’t have the same nightmares I did when I was at home.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>I pull away and look up at him to find him staring down at me, a crooked grin on his face. His fingers brush my cheek, continuing around my ear and gently sweeping down the back of my wet hair.</p><p>“My only nightmare now, Veronica, is losing you.  So tell me, how do we do this, while keeping you and me safe?”</p><p>“I think you and I talk to Duncan this week. See what he knows and give him the chance to play the hero and turn the group in himself.” I suck in a slow breath, steadying myself before releasing it. “And if he doesn’t, we go straight to the Regional Security Systems with what we know.  Before anyone gets hurt.”</p><p>“That sounds like a solid plan.” He plants a kiss on my forehead before releasing me and walking away towards the kitchen.</p><p>Putting my hands up to my cheeks, I shake my head as I watch him start to open cupboard doors. “What are you doing?”</p><p>“Eating,” he says and pulls out an open bag of chips from the top cupboard. “It’s now one-in-the-morning, we’ve been to a party, we drank, we left, we argued, we made up, we may have saved the country from possible terrorists, and also, I’m stoned, so I really need to eat.”</p><p>With a roll of my eyes, I head over and take a handful of chips from the bag as he grins. “You’re really unbelievable, you know that?”</p><p>His grin disappears for a second as he frowns in question. “Good unbelievable, or bad unbelievable.”</p><p>Pointing a rippled chip at him, I smile.  “Good unbelievable. Now.”</p><p>“I’ll take that.” Logan shrugs and pops a chip in his mouth. “How are you feeling otherwise?”</p><p>“Fine, I guess.” I shrug, concentrating on the chips in my hand. “I mean, physically fine. But I still feel pretty icky about being touched by Gory.” Another involuntary shudder runs through me, and I let out a groan of discontent.</p><p>“You get that I wanted to snap his hands right off his body, right?”</p><p>“Yes, I do. And trust me, if you saw how Gory pressed up against me, you would have wanted to snap other appendages off him too.”</p><p>“I can still track him down and do that to him if you want?”</p><p>Chewing the last of the chips, my face scrunches as I try to keep from smiling.  Swallowing, I shake my head. “That won’t be necessary.”</p><p>He nods and then tips his head back, raising the chip bag over his head and guiding the crumbs into his mouth.  It’s such a stupid sight to behold that I start to laugh, rolling my eyes at his antics.</p><p>“There seems to be a disconnect between how you’re acting and what you’re saying, Logan.”</p><p>Pointing his finger at me, he smiles, dropping the empty bag on the counter. “That would be the pot really kicking in.”</p><p>I walk up to him and wrap my arms around his waist, and he looks down at me with a wobbly grin. “Can you promise me that this is the last time you try and control your emotions with pot?  I mean, I know that it’s legal, and I get why you did it, but I would prefer talking to <em> you </em>.”</p><p>His smile disappears as he wraps his arms around me and kisses my forehead. “I won’t do it again.  I promise.“</p><p>“Good.” I step back and start to walk towards the bed. “Now go, brush your teeth, and come to bed, skunky. Even though you reek, I need a good cuddle before we go to sleep.”</p><p>Crawling under the covers, I watch him bow to me dramatically before heading toward the bathroom. “I think I can manage that.  I’ll be there in a minute.”</p><p>When he closes the door, I sink under the blankets, turning my back to his side of the bed in anticipation of him climbing in behind me.</p><p>There’s no denying that there are problems right now. And frankly, I’m too physically tired and emotionally exhausted to continue to be mad about him smoking pot during our argument. On some level, part of me is jealous that he has some means of escape from his brain, from his emotions.  Part of me yearns for that—a way to break free of my own mind, if only for a little while.  Because everything that’s in my head seems like too much.</p><p>He steps out of the bathroom in only his tight grey boxer briefs, and a rush of warmth flows through me as he turns out the lights and makes his way through the dark.  There’s a bump and a swear, and I giggle as he blindly stumbles to our bed, breathing a sigh of relief as he crawls in next to me. His body slides into position, spooning mine, and just the feel of him next to me is the best drug, easing my mind with just a touch. When he nuzzles my hair, I wriggle against him, pulling his arm tightly around my waist.</p><p>“I love you, Veronica,” he whispers close to my ear. “And all I want is to keep you safe. That’s all.”</p><p>“I know,” I whisper back in the darkness. “I love you too, Logan.”</p><p>“Even when I fuck things up?” he asks quietly, his heart beating hard against me.</p><p>“You didn’t fuck things up. You just learned that maybe sometimes your old coping methods don’t work anymore.”</p><p>Logan’s silent for a second before murmuring, “That’s profound.”</p><p>Snickering, I let out a deep sigh and a yawn. “Thanks.  Now sleep it off so we can have post-argument make-up sex tomorrow.”</p><p>I feel his breath on me as he yawns, and I close my eyes, ready to put this night behind us, for now.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Chapter 27</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay friends.  Hang on.  It's getting a bit bumpy.</p><p>TW: attempted assault</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <b>Veronica</b>
</p><hr/><p>“So, how long will you be at the gym?”  I don’t look away from the computer screen, continuing to edit as I talk.</p><p>“Give me two hours.” Logan walks up behind me and kisses the top of my head. “I just want to clear my head before we track down Duncan.”</p><p>Dropping my head back, I awkwardly glance up at him and his upside-down face smirks back at me.</p><p>“Say hi to Wallace for me.”</p><p>“I will.”</p><p>He lowers himself to kiss me and I hum with contentment.  The glow from our make-up sex this morning is still on my skin and I’m already thinking about how I’ve decided to “reward” myself for finishing this research paper.  It involves Logan, this desk, a cute little black skirt I brought with me from home, and at least an hour of time tonight. As if reading my mind, he plants another tender kiss on my lips, holding it for longer before retreating with a groan.</p><p>“You should just stay here. Sex burns, like, a hundred calories. And it’s probably a better stress reliever than punching a bag.”</p><p>“While that may be true, I thought you have a paper you needed to work on?”</p><p>I spin around in my chair towards him and moan with discontent. “Yeah. I do. You’re right.”</p><p>“Plus, I’m confident that punching a bag will help me get over my feeling that I want to punch Gory.  Or Piz.  Or Duncan.”  He shrugs on his jacket and pulls his bag over his shoulder.  “Besides, we talked this morning about healthy and unhealthy coping with my anger.  The gym is healthy.”</p><p>“Sex is healthy!” I raise my finger and wiggle my eyebrows at him, and he just laughs, shaking his head.</p><p>“Which we will have. Later.  Again…” Chuckling, he wags his finger back at me. “Now finish your research paper.  I don’t want to distract you anymore.”</p><p>Spinning to face the computer, I sigh. “Fine.  See you later. Love you.”</p><p>“Love you too,” Logan calls out and I hear the door open and close, locking behind him.</p><p>The words on the white screen are taunting me and I squint, moving my face closer to make sure I get every mistake, that I haven’t forgotten a word.  My mother once told me how she paid someone on the internet to write her high school essay on Pride and Prejudice, so she could sneak off with her boyfriend for the day, on the weekend it was due.  While I was shocked at this story, right now, I would kill to be able to take some sort of shortcut on this work, if only to get through my day faster.</p><p>Not that I was looking forward to what was about to happen.  After last night, Logan and I decided this morning to talk to Duncan today, before anything bad happened.  Susan didn’t tell us anything about a timeline of when and where a bomb could be placed, but if something happened before we could go to the Security System, and people were hurt, I would never forgive myself. But with Logan still so upset about last night, it was best that he blew off some steam before we talked to anyone.</p><p>Giving my head a shake, I try to focus on my work, and I’m able to for a time, making good progress until there’s a knock at the door.  I can see myself frown in the reflection of the computer screen and I save my work before standing.  My sleep shorts disappeared in the bed sheets this morning, but I’m still in Logan’s hoodie and a pair of his sweats I stole from the floor, cinched tightly at the waist.  For a second I think about changing before I open the door, but then just shrug.  It’s Saturday in a college dorm; I’m sure 50% of us look something like this right now.</p><p>When I pull open the door, I’m shocked to find Duncan on the other side. He tosses me a nervous smile and shoves his hands in his pockets.</p><p>“Hey. Good morning.”</p><p>“Hey….” I’m so taken aback I’m not too sure what to do. “How’s it going, Duncan?”</p><p>“Good. Good.” He looks nervously down the hallway and then back to me.  “Can I come in?’</p><p>“Um. Yeah.” I step back and hold the door open a little wider. “Come on in. Don’t mind the mess.”</p><p>Duncan steps inside, passing by me before stopping just in the entryway to the main room. As I pass him, I blush, grabbing a pile of discarded jackets off one of the chairs and tossing it on the unmade bed. There are clothes on the floor and towels, and I’m pretty sure it probably still smells like sex, but I try and ignore it as I offer Duncan a chair.</p><p>“Did you come about Professor Hendrix’s paper?”</p><p>“No.  No, I didn’t.” He lowers himself down onto the chair and unzips his jacket with a heavy sigh. “I came about last night.”</p><p>Fear rips through me and I pace away from him, kicking a pile of clothes closer to the laundry hamper. “Yeah.  That was some party…”</p><p>“It was definitely interesting,” he drawls. “I mean, I don’t know how you and Logan enjoyed it, but I liked it. A lot.”</p><p>“Oh?”  I turn and he gives me a lopsided grin.</p><p>“Yeah.  That’s why I’m here.  I wanted to ask you about Parker.”</p><p>“Parker?  You want to ask about Parker?” The statement catches me off guard and I can’t help my incredulous tone, baffled by this turn of events.</p><p>“Yeah.  I wanted to know if she’s seeing anyone. I know Piz invited her, but we seemed to hit it off, and I was just wondering…”</p><p>Chuckling, I shake my head. Walking over to the bed, I sit on the edge, facing Duncan. “…if I could find out if she likes you?”</p><p>And for the first time in a long time, I see Duncan smile,<em> genuinely </em> smile, at me.</p><p>“Yeah. I was wondering that.  I mean, she told me she’s bi, and she rejected her first match but I wasn’t sure if that meant she was waiting to be matched with a woman or looking for a woman, or if she found a guy she liked…”</p><p><em> Ugh </em>. My heart just aches listening to Duncan prattle on about Parker. This was why I gave Duncan so much slack.  This is why I want to help him. Because this is the Duncan I remember growing up with: sweet, sensitive, kind of dorky, but in the cutest way.  And I wished he let this show more often, instead of feeling like he had to be a big dumb jerk to me and Logan.</p><p>“I can talk to her if you want. That’s no problem, Duncan.” I reach out and pat him on the knee. “I’m not 100% sure if she’s looking for someone or waiting for <em> Orwell </em>, but I can find out.”</p><p>“That would be great. Thanks.” He nods, grinning back at me.</p><p>This is good.  He’s in a good mood.  I’m in a good mood.  It’s working well and I’m feeling this friendship again. With a sharp breath, I shove my hands in the pocket of the hoodie and just decide to go for it.</p><p>“Speaking of talking to people…” I begin slowly. “I wanted to talk to you about last night.  About C.H.A.D. and Gory Sorokin.”</p><p>“Yeah.  What did you want to know?”</p><p>“Well, Logan and I were worried about you and so we started looking into this group. You know, you’ve been…different…since we arrived at school and we started wondering about who you’ve been getting involved with…”</p><p>“Okay…I’m not quite following you, Veronica….”</p><p>“Logan tried talking to you about it at the bar one night, but you still seemed pretty sure about C.H.A.D.and your involvement with it.”  I take a deep, cleansing breath, focusing on Duncan’s confused face in front of me. “Well, last night, we found out some stuff about the group and we’re worried that you might get unintentionally involved.”</p><p>“What <em> stuff, </em> Veronica?  What are you worried I’m involved in?”</p><p>This is it.  I just need to lay it all out on the table.  It doesn’t matter that Logan’s not here.  This is Duncan. It’s not like he would hurt me.</p><p>“I talked to a woman last night—I guess she was Gory’s lover for a while—and she said that she overheard some of the members talking about…” I swallow hard, a cold sweat sweeping over my skin. “…planting bombs around Chicago.”</p><p>Duncan shakes his head, his eyes narrowing as he sits back in the chair. “And…you think I’m involved…?”</p><p>I begin to fidget with my ring, suddenly wishing Logan would walk back into the room and help me explain this to Duncan.</p><p>“Not you.  Of course not. But what about Piz?  It was kind of weird how he just happened to show up with you after we had a bomb scare in our dorm. And you both seemed to know it was a bomb scare even though we didn’t say anything about one and….”</p><p>Duncan leaps to his feet and the chair goes flying back with a crashing sound as it hits the wall and I jump, lurching back on the bed in shock. Duncan paces towards the door and then back, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.</p><p>“So, you’re saying you think I’m some sort of <em> mad bomber </em>?” Duncan hisses, his face red with rage as he stomps towards me.</p><p>“Duncan I….”</p><p>Fear grips me like never before and I leap to the far side of the bed and stand, hoping he stays on the other side of the room.  Instead, he advances around into the space between the bed and desks and I back up, cornered against the side table.  </p><p>“You think, I’m involved with…with…<em> terrorists, </em> Veronica?” he spits, pausing for a second as he breathes heavily, his eyes wild with anger. “How could you ever think that?”</p><p>“Did you call in the bomb scare?” My voice trembles as I speak, but I square my shoulders and puff up my chest, trying to make myself somewhat intimidating. “Answer me, Duncan!”</p><p>He covers his head with his hands and lets out a deep groan and I’m not sure if it’s a battle cry or a sound of deep angst, but when he raises his eyes back to me, they are dark and cold.</p><p>“I called in the bomb,” he hisses, his nose wrinkling in disgust. “Piz had the idea, and I did it.”</p><p>“Why?”  I gasp, clutching my heart.  </p><p>Dragging his teeth over his lips, his mouth morphs into a crooked grin. “To pay you both back for rubbing your relationship in my face, but I would never plant a real bomb.  Ever!”</p><p>“Duncan…I’m sorry…I….”</p><p>My stomach tightens. This emotional game we have all been playing suddenly has very real consequences. When he steps closer, I press myself against the side table, gripping the edge as I watch him come closer, horrified by his smile.</p><p>“So, does that mean you admit it?  That you were trying to make me jealous?  The hand holding. The kissing. God, I could smell the sex on you when you sat next to me in class. And all I could think was that it should have been me making love to you, Veronica.  Not him.  I answered every goddamn question that <em> Orwell </em> threw at me, the way I thought it needed to be answered to get you to be mine, and yet still, you were paired with that jackass, not me.”</p><p>I stand on my tip-toes, trying to stay back as his boots come right to my bare feet, his body now so close that I can smell his cheap aftershave, and my body begins to shake with fear as he looks down on me.</p><p>“Duncan, please, you need to go.” My voice is strong at first but cracks in the end. “Please.”</p><p>Before I know what’s happening, he grabs my wrists and I scream as he pulls me close to him, his face now right in front of mine. I’m so frightened, but I fight the urge to burst into tears. </p><p>“You should have been mine!” he shouts and I feel the heat of his breath on me.</p><p>Gathering my wits, I look him in the eye, my lip twitching with newfound anger as his hands tighten painfully around my wrists.</p><p>“No!  I shouldn’t have. You’re a liar and a fraud and I’m glad I’m not with you!”</p><p>The next thing I know I’m gasping for breath as his lips crash down onto mine, suffocating me in his kiss.  Thrashing against him, his grip tightens so hard I can’t feel my hands and I kick at him, trying to connect and do enough damage to make him let go. My ears are ringing as my body fills with fear of what he may do next, and I try to scream as he continues to cover my mouth.  And it’s then that I hear the blast.</p><p>An explosion.  Somewhere outside.</p><p>The sound shocks Duncan and he releases me, my body falling to the side onto the bed. In my daze, I roll myself off the other end, taking all the jackets with me onto the ground, my senses trying to catch up with what’s happening.</p><p>“Get out!” I scream at him, my body vibrating.  “Get out get out get out!”</p><p>There’s now the sound of feet running in the hallways and loud voices and Duncan’s wide eyes dart from me to the door.  Stomping across the space, he takes a last glance at me on the floor with cold, dead eyes, before pulling open the door. The hum from the students outside rises in the room momentarily before the door slams shut behind him.</p><p>My body starts to vibrate, and I stick my numb hands in my hoodie pocket. I’m suddenly cold.  Colder than I’ve ever been in my life and I begin to rock, trying to gather myself together.  In the distance, I hear sirens and a small voice in my head reminds me that there was an explosion.  That’s why Duncan released me.  If it hadn’t happened to distract him, I don’t know what could have happened. And right now, I don’t want to imagine it.  It’s all too much.</p><p>Gathering my strength, I crawl to the window and rise on my knees to look out through the open blinds. People are stopped in their tracks below, all looking across campus towards the plume of black smoke rising from a building in the distance.</p><p>“The gym…” </p><p>The words fall from my mouth as the visual connects to reality in my head.  The explosion.  The smoke. The gym.  The fitness center….</p><p>“Logan.”</p><p>A hoarse cry of anguish rises in my throat. I grab my jacket from the floor and launch myself back across the room, crawling over to my boots and I pull them on as fast as I can considering my whole body is shaking. It takes all my strength to pull myself to my feet and I stagger over to grab my keys from the counter.  I have to get to the scene.  I have to see if Logan was okay. </p><p>Fight.  Flight.  With the last of my energy, I launch myself out into the hallway and run as fast as I can through the people, down the stairs, and out the door.</p><hr/><p>
  <b>Logan</b>
</p><hr/><p>Ringing. Aaron clocked me in the head again. No. That’s not right. I’m not at home. Smoke. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. Fire?</p><p>Someone pulls on my arm and I roll onto my back to see Wallace mouthing something at me. I can’t hear him, but I nod anyway and he helps me to my feet, tossing my arm around his shoulder. People are running past us, and I push off him, staggering forward on my own. I see which way the people are rushing from the running track, towards the stairs, but Wallace looks back, jerking his thumb and then waving me on.  I shake my head and turn to follow him.  The high wail of fire alarms cuts through the ringing in my ears and I squint against the assault on my senses. That’s when I see it, part of the ceiling has given way.  A shot of adrenaline kicks me into high gear, and I run past Wallace toward the arm sticking out under the concrete slab.  The cold from the giant hole in the ceiling hits my skin and I flinch but don’t stop, stepping into the wreckage. I begin to pull the concrete chunks off the person as Wallace positions himself at the guy’s arms, ready to pull him out. We’re able to free him quickly and as we pull him out, we realize it’s Jeff Ratner and I see Wallace curse as he pulls him further away.  I look around again, through the smoke.  I can’t see anyone else and so I jump back to Wallace and Ratner, helping Wallace pull him to his feet. He’s dead weight and that’s when I bend and shift him to sling over my shoulders.  Wallace places himself behind me, and I feel him holding Ratner as we begin to move as quickly as we can towards the stairs.  I don’t know if Ratner is dead or alive, but I’m not leaving him here.  There’s no way.</p><p>The stairwell is empty by the time we get there, and I just hope I can manage to take Ratner down the steps without killing myself.  As I move, I start to remember what happened.  Jogging with Wallace on the track. The sound of the explosion blasting out my ears and the shaking of the gymnasium before...nothing.  That must have been when the ceiling collapsed.  Was I hit? I must have been, but I can’t feel a thing.</p><p>Nearing the bottom of the emergency stairs, the doors are wide open, and I can see the hordes of people and bright flashing lights of vehicles.  As I hit the bottom, I stumble and Wallace manages to somehow catch me, keeping me and Ratner off the ground.  When I get to the snow, I collapse onto my knees, and Wallace scoops up Ratner to keep him from crushing me as I fall. The commotion begins to penetrate my ears and I hear Wallace holler for help as he carries Ratner through the snow towards an ambulance.  Out of nowhere, Jackie breaks through the security line and rushes him just as the medics meet him to take Ratner from his grasp.  </p><p>It’s then that I see Veronica before I hear her, shoving through the crowd and running past Jackie, frantically scrambling towards me while dodging security trying to stop her.  That’s when I let go, allowing myself to fall into the snow, my eyes catching the billowing black smoke rising from the fitness center into the bright blue morning sky.</p><p>She comes to a crashing stop next to me, her arms enveloping me, pulling me into a ferocious hug.  A medic drops to my other side, and she releases me. </p><p>“Oh my God!  He’s bleeding!” Veronica's voice quakes and I shake my head.</p><p>“What?  Where?” I ask and the medic helps her sit me up a little more.</p><p>“Must have been hit,” the medic murmurs, his hand cupping my head. “You’ll have to come with me.”</p><p>“What? Why? I’m fine…”  Wrenching myself away from him, I try and stand, but am met by a wave of exhaustion.</p><p>“He’s in shock,” the medic states, waving for something and I hear Veronica gasp.</p><p>“Logan, your head is bleeding,” she says, her hand pressing against my heart. “You can’t feel that?”</p><p>I go to shake my head and suddenly, I can feel it all.  It’s like my brain is being squeezed in a vice and I realize the sweat dripping down my neck isn’t sweat at all. </p><p>“Oh.  Shit….”  And as I close my eyes, the only thing I can hear is Veronica scream.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Chapter 28</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <b>Veronica</b>
</p><hr/><p>I know he’s going to be okay. But sitting here by his bedside, I can’t stop shaking. There were so many people injured or worse that I’m surprised they had room for him, but here we are, a curtain dividing us from the others who were hurt.  This is the ward that they have classified as ‘getting off easy’.  Some are in intensive care.  Some are in surgery.  Some are in the morgue.</p><p>In the three hours I’ve been here, I managed to piece together what happened from stories from Wallace, witnesses and those who were brought in.  An explosion on the main floor.  Looked like it was the men’s locker room. Blew the concrete walls clear into the weight room next door.  I feel blessed and guilty that Logan and Wallace decided to take it easy and go for a jog around the track instead of using the punching bags, after finding the weight room packed with people. </p><p>Right now, they are exploring the possibility of a critical system failure in the gas line.  That’s what the news said. But I know.  I <em> know </em> this wasn’t a gas leak explosion. This was a bomb, set by C.H.A.D., and it terrifies me to my core. </p><p>Logan stirs and I jump from my thoughts, standing closer to his bed.  Gently, I reach down and hold his hand, connected to tubes and monitors.</p><p>“Logan?  Logan, can you hear me?”</p><p>His head lolls towards me as his eyes flutter open. I want to cry, I’m so happy, but I hold myself together as his senses rouse.</p><p>“Where am I?” he mutters, wincing as he moves his body.</p><p>“Hospital. They stitched up the gash on your head while you were unconscious and are monitoring you for a concussion. You got off lucky; it wasn’t deep, but head wounds tend to bleed a lot so it looked scarier than it was.”</p><p>His brow furrows and he nods slightly. “Wallace?”</p><p>I give his hand a squeeze. “Fine. Exhausted, but fine. I don’t think Jackie’s going to let him out of her sight for the rest of his life now.”</p><p>For a second, Logan smirks before his lips form a tight line. “Ratner?  Jeff?”</p><p>“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Last I saw, he was alive and being rushed to the hospital, but I haven’t seen him since.”</p><p>“Hmmmm…” he replies, his eyes looking around at his surroundings before focusing back on me. “Was it a bomb?”</p><p>Hesitating, I place his hand back down on the bed and walk over to the curtain.  Peeking into the large room, I glance around for signs of life, but it seems that everyone around us is either sleeping or occupied.  Pulling the curtain completely closed, I walk back to my chair and move it closer to his bed.</p><p>“The news isn’t reporting it as such,” I whisper, sitting down and leaning in so he can hear me. “But I think it may be.”</p><p>Logan takes a slow, deep breath and exhales.  His heart monitor beeps at the change in his blood pressure.</p><p>“Did you talk to any of the investigators about it?  Anyone from the Security System?”</p><p>“No. Not yet.” I drag my fingers through my dirty hair, realizing how utterly disgusting I feel. “I didn’t want to leave you, and quite frankly, I’m not too sure what I would say. This is all just so wild that I’m still trying to wrap my head around the facts about who could be and could not be involved.”</p><p>“So, Duncan…”</p><p>“I don't think he set the bomb,” I murmur, glancing away. “Or maybe he did.  I just don’t know what to think anymore.”</p><p>Pulling the sleeves of his hoodie down over my hands, I shove them into the front pocket.  My wrists throb at the mention of Duncan and my face flushes. Suddenly, I can’t look Logan in the eye as the events of my encounter with Duncan flash through my brain.</p><p>“Veronica,” Logan says quietly. “What’s wrong?”</p><p>My throat goes dry and I swallow, trying to lubricate it enough to speak. “Duncan was with me when it happened.”</p><p>“Wait?  What?  Why? We were supposed to go and talk to him when I got home.”</p><p>He manages to roll towards me and slides his free hand through the rungs of the bed rail. Slowly, I release one of my hands from the hoodie and raise it to place in his, and the over-sized sleeve slides back along my arm. I don’t say a word and it takes him a moment to shift his gaze from my face down to our clasped hands.  And that’s when he sees the deep blue bruise circling around my wrist like an unwanted bracelet.</p><p>“Veronica.  What happened?”</p><p>Digging deep down into myself, I steady my breathing as I look him in the eye. “Duncan came to our room.  He was asking about Parker, but then he was in such a good mood that I…I decided to talk to him about C.H.A.D.” I take in a shaky breath as he stares at me, his mouth dropping open slightly. “But his mood flipped like a switch, and he got angry and….”</p><p>It all replays in a flash through my brain and I feel like Logan can see it all in my mind because he sits himself up, grabbing the railing for support.</p><p>“What did he do?” he hisses, his eyes suddenly clear and focused.</p><p>“He grabbed me by the wrists and started yelling at me…” I glance over my shoulder to make sure no one is around us, listening on the other side of the curtain.  I don’t see feet under the draping, so I continue. “He was yelling about how we were taunting him with our affection and how it should have been us together. And we fought and he admitted that he called in the bomb threat to scare us but then…” I gasp, trying to catch my breath and keep my emotions in check. “He kissed me, and I couldn’t get away but when we heard the explosion, he finally let go and I managed to escape.”</p><p>That’s when my body begins to vibrate again, my hands shaking like never before and I grip the edge of the bed, trying to keep myself steady.  Logan’s big palms cover mine and the warmth of them spreads over my whole body.  And that’s when it hits me exactly how horribly wrong my encounter with Duncan could have gone.</p><p>“Logan. I was so scared.  I didn’t know what he would do to me.”</p><p>“Fuck.” When I look back up, Logan’s face is red with rage and his lip twitches before he speaks. “I’m going to kill him.”</p><p>“Logan!”</p><p>His hands leave mine as he pulls the tape off his skin, releasing the IV before he slowly pulls it out, emitting a low hiss as he does.  For a second, I’m in such shock at what he’s doing that I can’t stop him, but when he pulls the pulse meter off his finger and the machine screams in my ear, I jump from my seat.</p><p>“What are you doing?”</p><p>“What am I doing?” he parrots, rolling to the other side of the bed. He shakes the bed rail until it drops, and he tosses the blanket off himself before he swings his legs off the bed, attempting to stand. “I’m going to find Duncan and I’m going to kill him.  Just like I said.”</p><p>Racing around the other side, I grab his arm and instead of stopping him, he grabs my shoulder and pulls himself up using me as support.  He’s in a hospital gown and his underwear and I realized he has no clue that he’s not dressed.</p><p>“You’re not going to kill him!” I give him a little shove, trying to get him to sit back down but he doesn’t move, and I realize the endorphins must have kicked in.</p><p>“Oh no.  I’m going to kill him.  Trust me.” </p><p>Stepping around me, he grabs the curtain and pulls it back just as two burly nurses appear to check on the sounds coming from his bed.</p><p>“Mr. Echolls! What are you doing?”</p><p>“I’m getting the hell out of here, that’s what I’m doing. Now give me my shoes and whatever you have for my clothes. Now!”</p><p>“You can’t leave.” The taller male nurse puts his hand on Logan’s shoulder and Logan just pulls away. </p><p>“I can and I will.”</p><p>I watch him storm from the room, the nurses giving each other a look of confusion before heading out after him down the hall and I quickly follow, trying to catch up with them.</p><p>This was not good.  None of this was good.  At all.</p><hr/><p>
  <b>Logan</b>
</p><hr/><p>The ride back to campus is a quiet one, in the back of our neighbour’s car. Kecia and Leslie sit in the front seats talking about what they did and didn’t see of the blast while Veronica and I sit behind them, not saying a word.  Leslie was playing basketball on the court below the jogging track when the explosion happened and was hit in the arm by some falling debris. Kecia was picking her up from the hospital when Veronica and I stumbled into the admitting area, still arguing about the fact that I had checked myself out and absconded with a pair of blue scrubs, an old torn jacket from the lost-and-found, and my salvaged sneakers I’d been wearing at the gym.  Mercifully, our neighbours took pity on us and offered us a lift home when we realized we had no money for a taxi. </p><p>As we pulled through the main entrance to the campus, I leaned forward and patted Kecia on the shoulder. “Would you mind letting us out by the singles dorms? I need to see about getting some stuff for a friend that was injured.”</p><p>Veronica throws me a look of concern and I decide to ignore it, still concocting my plan to beat the life out of Duncan. The image I have of him gripping Veronica’s wrists, forcing his lips on hers, is egging me on. For years, I have internally fought with my own anger, set deep inside my gut by Aaron. But now, it feels pure, it feels right to be this angry over Duncan’s treatment of Veronica. His behaviour went against everything that we were taught about relationships and love and commitment. It went against everything our world now stood for, based on equality of genders. This was pre-war misogynist behaviour, seeing Veronica as a possession or property. He didn't seek permission, he forced her into that kiss.  Assaulted her. Psychologically scarred her. And it reminds me so much of Aaron that I can barely see straight.</p><p>The car rolls to a stop and across the quad, I can see the yellow caution tape making a wide gate around F.G. Joyner Centre and for a split second, I’m back in time by a few hours, reliving the nightmare of getting out of the building.</p><p>“You okay?” Veronica asks, her hand landing on mine.</p><p>“I’m fine.” I give my head a gentle shake and it starts to throb again. With a nod to Kecia’s reflection in the rear-view mirror, I open the back door.  “Thanks for the lift. See you both later.”</p><p>I slide out into the cool evening air and Veronica joins me, shivering. “Now what?”</p><p>“Now?  We find Duncan.” I trudge towards the front doors of the building and squeeze past the people coming up and down the concrete steps.</p><p>“And then what, Logan?” Veronica catches up to me and takes my arm, falling into step as we walk through the halls. “I’m scared that you actually may kill him.”</p><p>“Don’t worry.  I’ll stop hitting him before he stops breathing…” We come to Duncan and Piz’s dorm room and I knock, hard and fast, holding my breath as I wait for a response.</p><p>When none comes, I knock again.  Still no one.  Looking down, I notice the light coming from under the door and it breaks a bit as whoever is on the other side walks near the doorway. Knocking again, I yell.</p><p>“Open the goddamn door, Duncan or I’ll break it down! I know you’re in there!”</p><p>All movement in the halls stop as eyes focus on me. My heart beats faster as Veronica tightens her grip on my arm and I watch the doorknob slowly turn. When it opens a crack, I see Duncan peek through, his dead eyes meeting mine.</p><p>“Whatdoyouwant?”</p><p>I give the door a shove, and Duncan staggers back as I burst into the room, followed by Veronica.</p><p>“Close the door.” I wave back at Veronica and she does as Duncan retreats all the way to the furthest corner of the room.</p><p>The blinds are pulled shut and the room is nearly pitch black, except for the light on the computer screen, illuminating everything in a soft blue glow. Nothing says guilt like cowering in the darkness. The mark of a coward. I can smell the fear on him as I follow him around the bed and grab him by the sweatshirt collar. There’s no hiding my anger as I face him, eye to eye.</p><p>“You fucking little shit!  I should kill you for what you did to Veronica!”</p><p>“I didn’t do anything!” he hollers back. “I didn’t do anything to her!”</p><p>She gasps behind me and that’s when I lose it, hauling off and punching Duncan in the face.  He cries out in agony and I let him go, letting him drop to the bed as he grips his face, blood pouring from his nose. It feels so good deep down in my soul and so terrible as well.</p><p>“You fucking assaulted her, you asshole!  You called in a prank bomb on us! And don’t try and tell me you and Gory didn’t plant an actual bomb at the fitness centre…”</p><p>“I didn’t plant any bomb!” he yells as I grab him again by the collar. My fist pulls back and I deck him again, cringing at the sickening sound of crunching bone and the squish of blood and skin under my knuckles.</p><p>“Logan!  Stop!” Veronica’s at my side, pushing me away from Duncan and I move, falling against the desk and knocking over the computer as she holds me back.</p><p>“I didn’t plant the bomb,” Duncan whimpers from the bed.  His hands are covering his face but I can still see the blood dripping from his palms.</p><p>“Someone in C.H.A.D. did!” I spit back. “So, don’t play innocent with us. You already admitted to Veronica that you called in a fake bomb!  What’s stopping you from planting a real one?”</p><p>“It wasn’t me! It was Piz!” Duncan barks, regaining his strength as he rises on the bed. “He made the bomb with Gory and planned to plant it on campus.  I didn’t do anything.”</p><p>“But you knew,” Veronica states, her voice rising strong between us. “You obviously knew, and you didn’t stop it! Logan was almost killed! And what about all those other people who were killed today? You’re an accomplice to murder, Duncan!”</p><p>Duncan slumps back on the bed, moaning in pain, as he covers his bloody face with his hands again. “I know…I know…” he mutters.</p><p>We stand in silence, watching Duncan crumble in front of us. We were supposed to be in this together.  Stand up for each other.  Protect each other.  Look out for one another. How the hell did it all go so wrong?</p><p>With a heavy sigh, Veronica walks across the room and picks up the phone on the counter. “I’m ending this right here, right now.  I’m calling the Regional Safety System and they can decide what to do with you, Duncan, because Logan and I are done trying to protect you.”</p><p>“What are you going to tell them?” he moans. Duncan is curled into a ball on his side, more a lump of flesh than man right now. He takes the grey blanket from his bed and tries to press it to his face to stop the bleeding and his hands shake.  My heart wants to hand the poor guy a tissue to blot the blood, but the rage in my belly keeps me from lifting a finger.</p><p>“That you attacked me.  That you called in the bomb scare.  That you have knowledge about the campus explosion.”  </p><p>As she begins to dial, the sound of the door unlocking catches all of our attention. The door swings open and Piz steps inside. He’s merrily whistling off key, in his thick winter parka and snow boots, but he comes to an abrupt halt when he spies Veronica in front of him. At first, he smiles a great Cheshire grin, until his eye catches Duncan, laying bleeding on the bed. That’s when his eyes shift to mine, and widen with terror. I can see it all compute in his head as he freezes.</p><p>“Hey Piz,” I call out with a wry grin.  “Duncan was just filling us in on your little bomb-making hobby.”</p><p>And that’s when he bolts, clear out of the door. Adrenaline rushes through me and I’m off after him in a flash, dodging past Veronica as she stays on the phone, and weaving past people as I pursue Piz down the hall.  My head starts to throb, but I keep going, easily catching up to the out-of-shape DJ and tackling him near the front door.  I get in one good punch to his face and he groans in agony, but continues to try and fight me, launching a half-hearted fist back at my head, which I dodge with ease. We begin to scuffle on the ground but large hands reach down and pull us apart as I flail.</p><p>“He set the bomb at the fitness centre!  Don’t let him go!” I yell, pointing at Piz as I try and wrench myself free from whoever has me in their grasp.</p><p>The one guy who is holding back Piz is suddenly joined by another, and another, the men holding Piz back against the wall. Whoever has me, lets me go and pats my back.</p><p>“Sorry, man.  You sure?”</p><p>Veronica appears at my side, the cordless phone receiver at her ear and she nods. “Yes.  It’s true.  Please send someone immediately.  We have the two men involved. They aren’t going anywhere.”</p><p>She disconnects the call and wraps her arms around my waist. I can feel her body shaking and I pull her closer, kissing her forehead.</p><p>“The other guy’s in room 110,” I say to the tall white dude who was holding on to me.  “Would you mind making sure he doesn’t go anywhere?”</p><p>“Yeah.  Sure.” The lanky guy nods and jogs away, through the crowd of people who have gathered around.</p><p>My heart is racing. After all the bullshit, it’s all come down to this. We’ve all made our choices. Some good. Some bad.  It’s now time we all face the consequences.</p><p>  </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Chapter 29</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: discussion of child abuse<br/>TW: discussion of assault</p><p>This chapter is dedicated to His Beautiful Girl, who helped me with my "boulder" last night. Fandom friends are awesome and lovely.  That's all. ❤</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <strong>Veronica</strong>
</p><hr/><p>I don’t know what time it is.  Or what day it is for that matter. All I know and care about is that I’m still in Logan’s arms, held tightly to his chest, the covers pulled almost over my head, making me feel like I’m in a wonderful, safe cocoon. I’m content for now to listen to him breathe and feel the radiating warmth of his body next to mine. </p><p>Dean O’Dell dropped us off at our dorm, just after midnight.  He’d been called to the Regional Security Systems building in downtown Chicago to verify some facts surrounding the bombings, make record of my assault on school property,  and discuss the activities of C.H.A.D. on campus.  When they were done with us, the Dean volunteered to take us home, and he informed us on the ride that they were cancelling classes for one week, to allow students and faculty time to process the tragedy. </p><p>They allowed Logan to stay with me while I gave them the details of what we knew about C.H.A.D. and Gory Sorokin, Duncan’s confessions about the fake bomb and the real bomb, and our knowledge of how Stosh Piznarski played a part in everything.  On just the assault details alone, they had enough to put Duncan away in jail for at least 10 years—once he had his day in court.  The bombing would take more time to prove, but a conviction would mean a life sentence in the radiation zone. Or as much of a life as he would have after the exposure.</p><p>When we got home, we each showered, separately, giving us each a chance to privately lick our wounds. My bruised wrists pulsed under the flow of the hot water and I quickly turned off the taps, unable to look at them anymore.  It was bad enough that they were photographed by the investigators.  I now had to live with the image of them, and how it happened, in my head for the rest of my life.  By the time Logan came out of his shower, I was already half asleep in one of his t-shirts as he slipped into bed with me in only his sweatpants, his half-naked body pressing against mine as he murmured good night.</p><p>Now, he stirs, his arms tightening around me as he mutters something unintelligible. I slip my hand from where it rests on his bare chest to reach around his body, pressing my palm against his back.  He sighs and wriggles closer, mumbling again, and I close my eyes and sigh as well. I’m back to the safety of our nest. The outside world can stay out for now. Nothing can hurt us anymore.</p><p>The phone rings and we both lurch in shock, suddenly very awake. It rings again and I roll out from under the covers and away from Logan. He sits up as I head for the kitchen.  By the third ring, the receiver is in my hands and I connect the call.</p><p>“H’lo?”</p><p>“Veronica!”</p><p>“Dad!”</p><p>I grip my chest, emotion rising in me so quickly that I can barely breathe. In a flash, Logan is up and out of bed, crossing the room to be by my side.</p><p>“Honey, I got a call from Commander Sacks in Chicago this morning.” Dad takes a sharp breath before continuing and I grip Logan’s arm for comfort. “He said he was working on a case file involving you.  He did a background check, confirmed you were my daughter, and called me out of professional courtesy to tell me what happened.”</p><p>Logan kisses my forehead and I purse my lips, heat rising in my cheeks at the thought of what my father may or may not know.</p><p>“What did he tell you, Dad?”</p><p>My father sighs into the phone. “Everything.  He told me everything, sweetheart.  He told me about the bomb, and Logan being hurt in the blast, and what Duncan…” Another long pause and I close my eyes, my stomach turning as I wait for my father to speak again. “About how Duncan attacked you.”</p><p>“You don’t have to worry, Dad.  I’m fine. Logan’s fine.” I look up at Logan and he looks down at me with concern.</p><p>“I highly doubt that, but I’ll take your word for it right now,” Dad huffs. “I also heard that Logan roughed Duncan up a bit before Duncan was arrested.”</p><p>Logan’s eyes go wide for a second and I realize that he’s so close to me that he can probably hear what my father is saying.</p><p>“Yeah. Logan punched him.  A few times.”</p><p>“Good.” Dad snorts. “Saves me from flying to Chicago and doing it myself.”</p><p>Logan’s chest puffs with pride and I bite my lip to hold back my grin as a wobbly smile crosses his face. With another kiss to my forehead, he moves past me to the kitchen and begins to make coffee.</p><p>“That won’t be necessary, Dad.”</p><p>“Well, speaking of flying to Chicago, when I talked to Sacks, we did discuss your safety—yours <em>and</em> Logan’s safety—while they put this C.H.A.D. business in order.” As I walk back to the bed, my dad clears his throat in my ear. “I want you and Logan to come home for a little while, to Neptune, so I can keep an eye on you both myself.”</p><p>“I don’t think that’s necessary either, Dad,” I say, dropping back onto my side of the bed, pulling my legs up so I’m cross-legged near the edge.</p><p>“It’s completely necessary, Veronica. I’m actually going to be on a tele-conference call with other Security departments across the country later today. The New Democracy is mobilizing to make sure that this does not start to happen at campuses around Novo Terra. This isn’t the first time we’ve heard of C.H.A.D., and it always seemed to be harmless, but now that they’ve proven that they’re not, they need to be taken care of.”</p><p>A shiver runs down my spine.  Logan and I were just ground zero for the discovery of a new terrorist group. Not exactly how we pictured our college lives going, but here we are.</p><p>“Okay, Dad,” I start slowly, catching Logan’s eye. “If you think we should come home, we’ll come home.”</p><p>Logan stops what he’s doing and glances at me from the kitchen, frowning. I shrug and he shakes his head, opening the cupboard and extracting two mugs before letting the door close a little too loudly behind him.  He continues to busy himself trying to ignore me.</p><p>“Good. Then I’ll make the arrangements. I'll give Aaron and Lynn a call and tell them what's happening too, so they don't worry.  The explosion on campus has been all over the news.”</p><p>“Actually, Dad…can you not tell Mr. and Mrs. Echolls that we’re coming home?”</p><p>Glancing back at me, Logan purses his lips and this time, I avoid his eyes.</p><p>“Why’s that, honey?”</p><p>“Oh, you know…I’m sure they already know about the explosion but I think we’d just needlessly worry them if they found out we were involved. If we just arrive at your place and surprise them, then it won’t be a big thing. ”</p><p>My dad pauses and I hold my breath, hoping he doesn’t make this into a big deal.</p><p>“You don’t want to see Aaron very much, do you?” Dad murmurs, as if he’s let out a secret.</p><p>“You’re right, Dad. You’re so very right.”</p><p>Logan leans against the wall and crosses his arm. He’s still frowning at me, but it’s more of a look of concern than anger.  Which is good.  I’d rather he be confused by me than pissed off because I'm really not up for an argument this morning.</p><p>“Okay then. We’ll make it work.”</p><p>“Thanks, Dad.  I appreciate it.”</p><p>“No problem, sweetheart.  I’ll call you later when we have the details worked out.  I love you.”</p><p>I can’t help but smile. If there is anyone I can count on in this world, it’s my dad. “I love you too.  Talk to you later.”</p><p>Disconnecting the call, I place the phone on the side table. Logan scratches the stubble on his cheek, but remains on the other side of the room.  The smell of fresh coffee makes my stomach gurgle loudly and he chuckles.</p><p>"Should I put on some toaster waffles?"</p><p>"No. Not yet." I reach out my hand to him. "Come and sit with me. I'm not ready to deal with the world yet."</p><p>He runs his fingers through his hair and smirks, walking over to his side of the bed. Climbing back in, he leans back against the headboard and raises his arm. I take him up on his invitation and scoot over to cuddle against his side, my head resting in the crook of his shoulder. His arms come around me and we sigh in unison, sinking into each other's embrace. Brushing the hair off my forehead, he plants another tender kiss on my skin.</p><p>"How's your head feeling today?" I ask.</p><p>"Good." Logan continues to play with my hair and I close my eyes, enjoying his touch. "My stitches are throbbing a bit, but the headache is gone."</p><p>"That's good."</p><p>"How are <em>you</em> feeling?"</p><p>I can hear the implication in his tone. It's not just a question of how I'm physically doing, but mentally too. A flash of Duncan pressing his lips to mine sends a revolting shock through my guts and I cringe.</p><p>"Good. Not good.  I don't know."  I open my eyes and glance up at him. "I'd really like Duncan to be out of my head."  My hand creeps up to his chest and my bruises come into view. "I know these will fade, but what happened with Duncan...I...I don't know when that will go away. In school, they told us that they had eliminated this type of behavior from society, and obviously we knew that wasn’t true, but now that it's happened to me, I really don't know how to feel, or what to say or do to make it better."</p><p>Logan takes my hand in his and he slowly brings my wrist up to his lips, tenderly kissing my bruise. He places my hand against his heart and covers it with his palm.</p><p>"Can I tell you something?"</p><p>"You can tell me anything, Logan."</p><p>Taking a deep breath, he exhales slowly before continuing.</p><p>"I carry the memories of what Aaron did to me, like a giant weight, every day.  Some days, it's so heavy, it feels like a boulder, pulling me down. Other days, it's lighter, like a cloud just hovering over me.  But it's always there with me." Logan begins to stroke the back of my hand, staying away from my bruises. "Since you discovered my secret, though, I've had more days when it feels like a cloud than a boulder. And I think it's because you were right—telling someone my secret helped make the burden just a bit lighter."</p><p>He kisses my forehead again, a crooked smile spreading over his lips. "I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but in time, if you can find people you trust to talk about it with—me, your dad, a counselor—then I promise you, while the memory of it may never go away, it will get lighter."</p><p>I shift in his arms, holding back tears, and he leans his cheek on my head, his arm pulling me closer to his body.</p><p>"When we were talking to the inspector last night, I was in awe of the strength you had, telling them about what transpired between you and Duncan, and as I watched you, I realized that I needed to do that too.  I need to dig deep and find the strength to turn Aaron in for his abuse."</p><p>I turn my hand to weave my fingers through his, clasping them tightly.</p><p>"You're strong, Logan. Not just physically, but mentally as well. I get it now. I get why you wanted to hide your secret from the world because frankly, if you weren't there with me, holding my hand, I don't know if I would have had the courage to tell them, about Duncan or Gory."</p><p>He's quiet for a moment and I lift my head, causing him to sit up straighter to meet my gaze. Dark circles of exhaustion pool under his eyes. His hair is disheveled and his face is full of patchy stubble. He looks wholly terrible and wonderful and I'm so grateful that he's here with me now. Letting go of his hand, I shift my palm to cradle his cheek and I smile as big tears begin to stream down my face.</p><p>"Yesterday morning, I thought I had lost you. And that fear stayed trapped in my heart. While I was sitting next to your bed at the hospital, I realized that loving someone also means dealing with possibly losing them, and it terrified me.” I sniffle back the fresh round of tears, trying to keep some semblance of control. “At the same time though,  it made me stronger. I wanted to stop Duncan. I wanted to stop Gory and Piz. I wanted to make sure that they knew that I wouldn't let fear stop me from putting a stop to them.  Far from it...I wanted to make them pay for what they had done. And God, Logan, it was terrifying to tell the inspector, but after, it felt so good to see justice served."</p><p>Logan smirks, his hand coming up to caress my cheek, brushing my tears from my skin.</p><p>"Guess you really were always meant to be a judge. What does punching Duncan and Piz say about me?"</p><p>I snort as I laugh, causing him to grin. "I think it says that you're passionate and have a strong sense of right and wrong."</p><p>"Passionate, huh?"</p><p>"Yeah," I murmur, leaning closer to him. "But I already knew that."</p><p>Logan's lips sweep mine and everything begins to melt away as we sink lower onto the bed.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <strong>Logan</strong>
</p><hr/><p>I pull Veronica on top of me as she giggles, her nose brushing against mine. When our lips connect, she sighs, her body relaxing onto me. My stitches pulse against the pillow and I try to push any pain away, focusing on her.</p><p>She rises away from me ever so slightly and I sweep some stray hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. Even after everything we've been through in the past 24 hours, she looks bright and refreshed, her pink skin glowing and her eyes have that soft, morning dreaminess to them.</p><p>"I promise you, Veronica, I'm going to work very hard to make sure you never have to worry about me ever again." My hand draws down her spine, resting in the small of her back. "After this is over, I will endeavour for us to have a very safe, very boring life."</p><p>"Boring sounds really nice right about now," she muses, her legs slipping to straddle my thighs.</p><p>I want to slide my hand further, to reach under the edge of her underwear and cup her buttocks, but I hold off, worried that she may not be up for fooling around after what happened with Duncan.</p><p>"Then it's settled. We'll lead a boring life. With boring jobs and a house full of boring children, who will one day mourn us with our boring grandchildren close by."</p><p>She cocks her eyebrow at me, a wobbly smile on her lips.</p><p>"How many boring children are we talking about?"</p><p>"I dunno.  Six or seven."</p><p>Playfully smacking my shoulder, she lets out a sharp laugh. "We are not having six or seven kids!"</p><p>"Well, by the amount of sex we have, I just thought that was what you were training me for…" I wiggle my eyebrows at her and she giggles. "...eventually repopulating our corner of the country."</p><p>"No. Two should suffice.  Eventually." Leaning in, she quickly kisses me again. "I just enjoy the practice."</p><p>"So do I."</p><p>This time, when she kisses me, we linger, my lips parting to allow her tongue to find mine. I close my eyes and just enjoy the weight of her on me, the warmth spreading through my body as we continue, her fingers resting on my shoulders, gently pressing into my skin. When we part again, Veronica flips her hair to one side and gazes down on me.</p><p>"When I was sitting beside your hospital bed, I kept thinking about all the things we would miss experiencing together, if something had happened to you. I thought about graduating and getting our first house. Seeing you elected somewhere in the country. Winning my first big legal case. I thought about what our children would look like and if they would have your humour. I thought about it all and it made me even more sure that I want to grow very old with you, Logan. I want to grow old and grey with you. I want to sleep next to you every night and I want to wake up to you every day until the day when one of us is gone."</p><p>My heart pounds in my chest so hard it resonates in my ears. Drawing my fingers through her hair, I try and hold back my emotions, making sure they don't get the better of me.</p><p>"They used to say, <em>till death do us part</em> when people recited their union vows. I feel that still doesn't give us enough time."</p><p>"Maybe that's why they say <em>forever</em>, now. I will always be a part of you, and you will always be a part of me."</p><p>Her lips meet mine again and I can taste the salt from her tears as I hold back my own. As our kiss deepens, her hips begin to roll against mine and I can't help the moan that rises in my chest as my cock hardens beneath her.</p><p>Veronica's fingers caress my hair as she murmurs in between kisses, "How's your head?"</p><p>I chuckle and she smiles at me. "Good enough."</p><p>"Good enough for what?"</p><p>"Whatever you have planned for me. I mean, if you're feeling okay with it."</p><p>For a moment, she hesitates, her brow furrowing with concern. Her eyes focus on her wrist and she sits up on me, her hand rubbing her bruise. She glances over at the side table, and I know she's replaying what transpired with Duncan in her head because a flash of fear appears on her face before retreating.</p><p>"I...I think so…." I caress her thighs and she meets my gaze again, her lips pursed in consternation. "I don't want what Duncan did to come between us."</p><p>Sitting up, I shift her slightly on my lap so we are nose to nose.</p><p>"What he did will not come between us, Veronica. But give yourself time to process everything. The inspector gave you the number of that counselor last night. Maybe give her a call today and talk about it."</p><p>Her palms press to my chest and she sighs, heavy with uncertainty. "What if I just want to forget about it, Logan? Can't you just help me forget?"</p><p>"I can try. And I'm sure you can forget for a time, but promise me that you'll call her and talk."</p><p>"I will." Veronica's nose brushes mine before planting another soft kiss on my lips. "Now please, just make me forget about it all. For now."</p><p>Pulling her ass closer to straddle my hips again, I brush my lips across hers. "For now...I can do that."</p><p>Her shirt rises between us as she sheds it, tossing it to the ground. I take a breath, my fingers skimming the soft curves of her body as she arches under my touch. Ducking down to kiss her neck, she dips her head to the side, allowing me access to gently suck her skin.</p><p>"Yes, Logan…." she cooes and my hand slips between us, my thumb grazing her nipple, causing her to gasp.</p><p>Maybe she's right. Maybe this is what we need. Just to forget. Forget about everything and everyone trying to come between us. I just need to be careful. The last thing I want to do is trigger her—hurt her in some way that makes what she's been through that much worse.</p><p>Her hips buck against me and just like that, I'm fully hard again, stretching against the fabric of my sweats. Shifting her weight, she rolls her warm mound against me and I moan into her skin. My fingers slide under her soft cotton underwear, gliding between her cheeks to find her wet core. She gasps as I spread her lips, stroking her as I continue to suck at her neck.</p><p>As her hips roll against me, I hold my fingers steady, letting her find the angle she needs. When the pads of my fingers hit her hard clit, she gasps, dropping her head to my shoulder.</p><p>"Oh Logan...Logan…"</p><p>I'm content to hold her like this, knowing from the small mewls falling from her lips, and the way her body moves against me, that she's enjoying the pleasure I'm providing. An escape. I hope that I can give her enough that she will forget Duncan's touch, if only for a short time.</p><p>Veronica's fingers thread through my hair and I hiss in pain when she skims my stitches.</p><p>"Oh God! I'm sorry, Logan."</p><p>I cringe, lifting my head from her neck. "It's okay. It was an accident."</p><p>"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea…"  She squirms away from my hand and I let her go. Rolling beside me with a huff of frustration, she crosses her arms over her bare breasts. "I don't want to hurt you."</p><p>"That's funny, because I keep thinking that I don't want to hurt you either." Scratching the stubble on my cheek, I glance at her and she frowns.</p><p>"You won't hurt me Logan."</p><p>"Are you sure?"</p><p>Biting her lip, Veronica leans back onto her pillows, her arms dropping from her chest.</p><p>"I'm positive." I take it as an invitation to roll towards her and kiss her. She giggles against my lips, her hands tugging on my sweats and I shimmy out of them.</p><p>She grabs my bare ass and gives me a playful squeeze. "I'll keep my hands lower this time, so I don't hurt you."</p><p>Giving her underwear a quick tug, I help her pull them off her legs and throw them on the floor.</p><p>"You can put your hands wherever you want," I murmur as I roll on top of her.</p><p>She spreads her legs and I come to rest nestled between them, my arms on either side of her, keeping me hovering above her. Her fingers dig into my butt cheeks again and she grins.</p><p>"Right here will do.  For now."</p><p>Her eyes sparkle as I lower myself to kiss her, our lips part when they brush together, her teeth nipping playfully at me before settling into a soft connection. Our bodies shift together, adjusting to the new position. Reaching between us, she spreads herself, allowing my cock to find her wet core and I pause, head tucked between her lips, making sure she's ready for me. When she thrusts against me, we gasp in unison as I slide deeper inside her.</p><p>"More…." she whispers, and I ease myself into her with agonizing slowness. Her eyes close and her back arches into me.</p><p>I hold my position, nestled deep between her soft, wet walls, my hips flush with hers and her eyes flutter open, connecting with mine. Her hands slide up my back to clutch the back of my shoulders and I ease my weight down on her more, my arms slipping under hers, my hands now cradling the sides of her head. Rolling my hips, I pull from her slightly before sliding back inside, creating the barest of friction. Her legs wrap around my thighs and I lower my head, pressing my forehead to hers.</p><p>"I love you...I love you…" My lips punctuate my words, catching her lips between breaths. "Logan...oh Logan...I love you so much…."</p><p>My body shudders as we move together, rocking our hips in rhythm with each other. Her words of affection give way to small gasps and moans. Her body clings to mine, tightening muscles and yielding core, pleasure flowing between us. She begins to pant and I know she's close, so I lower my lips to her ear and whisper.</p><p>"Come for me, beautiful."</p><p>She gasps, her hips moving against mine before coming hard and fast, her muscles flexing around my cock, and I finally allow my tensed body to let go. My stitches throb as blood pulses through my veins and I clench my teeth against the mix of pain and pleasure when I come deep inside of her.</p><p>I look down at her flushed and glowing face and stars dance in front of my eyes.</p><p>"Are you okay?" She asks, eyes narrowing with concern.</p><p>"Me? Never better." I gasp when she rolls her hips up against me one last time and she steals a quick kiss from my lips. "And you?"</p><p> Veronica grins up at me. "Never better."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Chapter 30</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <strong>Veronica</strong>
</p><hr/><p>Standing on the sidewalk as Logan pays for the taxi, I look up at the house and slowly exhale, letting the events of the past few days escape my body. Coming home feels safe. It feels right. Like a reset. We would come home while Gory and the rest of C.H.A.D. were rounded up and when we returned to campus in a week, things would be better.</p><p>Before we headed to the airport last night, we had dinner with Jackie and Wallace, to check in with the hero of the hour. It had been announced by Dean O’Dell that Wallace’s bravery, saving both Logan and Jeff, meant a special commendation from the college. Wallace tried to downplay it, but everyone was so proud that we decided that a celebration was in order and a few of us got together for pizza and drinks at his place to toast his bravery. Parker and Mac were there as were a few of his friends from the basketball team. Jeff was on his way to recovery, but with a shattered leg and punctured lung, it would be a long time before he could celebrate with us. Logan’s headaches were still coming and going, but the doctors cleared him for travel anyway.</p><p>Logan hauls his suitcase next to me and gives me a weak smile. Dressed in comfortable jeans and a black Henley shirt, his winter jacket is open in the relative chill of the California morning. I realize that in my jeans and favorite black wool sweater—my jacket unzipped as well—we kind of match, and it feels both funny and appropriate for us to have travelled home like this. He had mixed feelings about coming back to Neptune, but did agree that it was the safest place for us right now.  I give him a soft kiss on the lips, lingering to see if that would make him smile more. When I pull away and see that it did, my smile mirrors his.</p><p>“Don’t just stand there, kissing on my sidewalk…” Dad’s voice calls out and I jump away from Logan to see him laughing in the doorway. “Come on in, you two!  Lianne has breakfast in the oven.”</p><p>Shaking my head, I grab my suitcase, pulling it behind me as I walk towards Dad.  He meets me on the steps and takes the suitcase from me, embracing me in a one armed hug. I close my eyes for a second and savour the feeling of being safe back home. Releasing me, he yanks the suitcase up the steps.</p><p>“Hope you’re both hungry. Your mom made a feast for you guys.”</p><p>My belly gurgles loudly and Logan chuckles. “I think Veronica’s stomach speaks for us both.”</p><p>“Good, because I can’t eat all of this myself.”</p><p>I can smell the most wonderful aromas floating through the front door as we approach the house, and my stomach growls again.  Food.  Real food. Not made in a cafeteria or our little kitchenette.  Bacon. Real, honest to goodness eggs, not powdered ones. Fresh bread and coffee.</p><p>Stepping into the house, I drop my carry-on and shimmy out of my coat, hanging it up near the door and bee line to the kitchen to find my mother there, slicing pieces from a huge frittata on the counter.  She grins at me, eyes bright and chipper, and my heart leaps.  She is sober. Sure, it was only 9:00 a.m., but her glowing skin and sparkling eyes tell me what I need to know; there was no whiskey in her coffee today.</p><p>“Veronica!  Sweetheart….” Mom comes around the kitchen island, her arms wide open to wrap me in a tremendous hug, which I gladly sink into, enveloping her with my arms.</p><p>“It’s so good to see you, Mom.” Tears prick my eyes and I try to keep them at bay as she continues to hold me, rocking ever so slightly.</p><p>“Oh, I missed you,” she whispers, and I squeeze her tighter.</p><p>“I missed you, Mom.”</p><p>It was true. Right now, it was true, because in my mind, nothing else matters. The deception. The alcohol. The problems. It doesn’t matter to me in this moment.  All that I care about was the feeling of being safe with her right this minute. The rest we can deal with later.</p><p>She lets go of me, holding my shoulders as she smiles, tears now dancing on her eyelashes as well. Releasing me, she steps toward Logan, her arms open wide, and for a split second, he looks shocked that she’s going to touch him. But when she hugs him, he reciprocates, giving her a gentle squeeze back.</p><p>“It’s so good you’re <em>both </em>here,” she says and releases him, walking back to her work at the island.</p><p>I take Logan’s hand and lead him to a spot at the table next to mine.  A tickle of joy runs through me at the sight of four places set.  The last time I sat here, there were only three, but now our family is four. All of us together.</p><p>Mom has already poured coffee and orange juice and I lift my cup before I even sit down. When it hits my palate, my eyes roll back in my head. It’s fresh ground beans and so much better than the stuff Logan and I drink at school and at this rate, I may never want to go back.</p><p>“You enjoying that coffee?” Logan chuckles, sitting down and reaching for his cup.</p><p>“God, yes.” I slip into my chair, cradling my mug of pure liquid pleasure. “We need to up our coffee game at home.”</p><p>“What do you mean, <em>we</em>? I’m still the one who makes it for us.”</p><p>Breathing in the fragrant chocolate and nutty notes, my eyes flutter. “Okay. <em>You</em> need to up <em>your </em>coffee game, honey.”</p><p>“Your wish is my command, darling.” He shakes his head, taking a quick sip from his mug.</p><p>My dad laughs from his seat next to me. “Well, aren’t you two the couple.”</p><p>“What’s that supposed to mean?” I give my dad a playful elbow and he runs his palm over his bald head.</p><p>“It means that I’m glad to see that your partnership is working out so well.” Dad pats me gently on the back and smiles across at Logan. “A good match is a wonderful thing to see.”</p><p>Logan blushes slightly, his eyes darting from me to my dad. “It is a good match. But we’re both working hard to make it that way.”</p><p>“Well, that makes it even better.” My dad smiles warmly and sits back in his chair, taking his own coffee in hand. “There is only so much <em>Orwell</em> can do. The rest is up to the partners to work through.”</p><p>Mom comes around us with two plates, one she places in front of me, one she places in front of Logan. They both have a massive slice of a colourful frittata, two slices of fresh buttered bread, and a small mound of bacon. Saliva pools in my mouth and I’m so happy I want to cry.</p><p>“This certainly isn’t toaster waffles,” Logan states and I giggle.</p><p>“No. It’s not.”</p><p>I pick up the bacon and take the first bite. It’s crispy and salty, not the rubbery stuff we get at the cafeteria and I am definitely never leaving home again. My mother places a plate in front of Dad before sitting with her own meal and I take it as a sign to just dig in. For a few minutes, they let us devour our food in silence before my mother begins the conversation again.</p><p>“You know, Veronica, I have some bracelets you can borrow to hide those…”</p><p>She nudges her chin in my direction and I look down, realizing my bruises are peeking out from my black sweater as I move my hands. They aren’t as bad as they were—now just a greenish-yellowish stain around my wrists—but they are still there, reminding me of what happened. Heat rises in my cheeks and I keep my head lowered towards my food as I adjust the cuff of my sweater lower.</p><p>“Thanks, Mom. If I venture out tomorrow, I may take you up on it.”</p><p>“You have nothing to hide, Veronica,” Dad states, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder and I stop eating. “This is Duncan’s fault, not yours.”</p><p>“I know Dad, but…”</p><p>“No buts. Duncan attacked you. You did nothing to provoke it.”</p><p>My hand shakes as I place my cutlery down on my plate, my stomach suddenly rejecting the idea of food.</p><p>“But, what if I did, Dad?” I can’t look at him and so I keep my eyes on the tiny blue floral pattern running around the edge of my plate. “He said that I was flaunting my relationship with Logan in front of him, and it’s kind of true. I let myself confront him while I was alone, and not with Logan like we had planned on doing. And when it happened….I couldn’t fight him off.”</p><p>Logan’s hand slides onto my knee under the table and I drop my hand down to clasp his, giving it a squeeze.</p><p>“Oh, honey, it’s not your fault. That’s just the type of man Duncan is,” Mom says from across the table, her face now filled with concern.</p><p>“Veronica, your mother is right.  This is not about you; it’s about Duncan.” My eyes raise to meet Dad’s. His lips are pressed to a thin line and he takes a calming breath before continuing. “There’s a reason Duncan wasn’t matched with anyone, and this is one of them.”</p><p>“What?” My head jerks and I frown at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”</p><p>My mother and father exchange a glance and I’m even more confused. Dad rubs his neck and shakes his head with a sigh.</p><p>“Guess I should tell you the whole story…”</p><p>"<em>Whole story?</em> There’s a <em>whole story</em>?" I look to Logan and he leans closer to me, his hand coming to rest on the back of my chair as his attention fixes on Dad.</p><p>“After the war, when <em>Orwell</em> was in the initial phases, I was part of the newly developed Regional Safety System, so I participated in the planning process,” Dad begins slowly, hesitantly. “In the first year, it was predominantly the questionnaire that matched people, but we quickly realized that people could lie on the test, so they started to bring in geneticists to begin to isolate those traits that were deeply embedded in a person’s DNA. The DNA samples collected, used in combination with the questionnaire, created a better picture of who was a better match.  But it also allowed <em>Orwell</em> to <em>weed out</em> certain character traits.”</p><p>My stomach flips and I cringe. This sounds like what Duncan and Piz were talking about—genetically selecting people to create super-humans.</p><p>“Back in the years after the war, as part of my job, I was brought in to consult on which traits may make for criminal behaviours. Excessive obsession or fixation with someone or something. Excessive hostility or anger issues. Excessive thoughts or actions identifying themselves as morally or racially superior, and others inferior. They were looking for things in both the DNA and tests that would be <em>corrupt</em>. They also looked for inconsistencies between answers and what the DNA analysis would tell them to see if people were lying. It all came together to form a larger picture of who they wanted matched with others, and who would get separated from the evolution of society.”</p><p>I want to speak but I can’t. My brain feels overwhelmed by what is being told to me.</p><p>“So, Duncan…” Logan adds. “He didn’t get matched because he was being <em>weeded out.</em>”</p><p>“It seems that way.” Dad huffed, shaking his head. “I pulled some strings with people I still know on the <em>Orwell</em> project and they gave me his file. From the DNA sample taken at birth, he was marked as having excessive aggressive tendencies and fixations. But when he did his questionnaire, it was incongruent with other DNA findings about his personality, so he either lied on his test, or was trying to hide parts of himself for whatever reason.”</p><p>“He…he admitted to me that his mother told him how to answer the test,” I murmur and Dad nods.</p><p>“Then that would be why.  He didn’t answer as his true self.”</p><p>“But the aggression…” Logan says, his hand squeezing my knee. “They could tell that?  From DNA?”</p><p>“From DNA at birth, yes,” Dad affirms. “The DNA is the nature of who you are.  The test when you are sixteen years old is how <em>nurture</em> has played into your behaviour. Somehow, even if he was lying, <em>Orwell</em> must have caught that his aggressive nature was not countered by nurture.”</p><p>Logan’s face goes white and he nods, pulling his hand away from me under the table and from the chair.  I can see behind his eyes that he’s gone into his head again, probably replaying his life with Lynn and Aaron as parents with my father’s information firmly set as a guide.</p><p>“But nurture is everything,” Mom responds. “It’s your family. It’s your friends. It’s what you learn in school. It’s what you learn in the world. When your father and I were matched, it was more difficult because so many of us had lived through so much with our families and the education system back then and then the war. They said that the trauma of what some of us had been through in our lives had altered our DNA. That’s one of the reasons why the New Democracy has counsellors to help all of us work through our problems.” She reaches for her orange juice and I see her hand shake ever so slightly as she brings it to her lips for a quick sip. “But you both are part of a new generation. A generation free from the traumas we all experienced.”</p><p>
  <em>Free.</em>
</p><p>The word sticks in my brain.</p><p>
  <em>Free.</em>
</p><p>Growing up, we talked about freedom as being a collective idea. Before, there were people subverting other people’s freedoms through racism and misogyny and misinformation. But now, we were free from these oppressions. Finding our careers and one true match freed us from the worry and want, the hardship of discovering these things on our own.</p><p>Then why is it that as my father keeps talking about <em>Orwell</em> that I feel less and less <em>free</em>?</p><p>“Veronica.  Are you okay?” Dad’s hand rests on my shoulder again and I give my head a shake to get myself out of my thoughts.</p><p>“Yeah. I’m fine.  It’s just a lot to process.”</p><p>Dad chuckles and picks up his coffee again. “That’s an understatement, sweetheart.  I know it’s a lot for you to understand right now, but please, if you take away anything from this, just know that everything that I’ve done, and the New Democracy has done, has been for the good of all of us. It’s been a protection for us and others.”</p><p>“And it’s so much better than it once was,” Mom adds with a smile as she offers her hand to Dad. He takes it and smiles back at her and for a moment, I’m happy that they seem happy again together.</p><p>Checking in with Logan, I see him focus again on his food, eating quietly next to me. He doesn’t make eye contact and that alone tells me volumes.  Once we finish, there will be time for us to talk. But for now, I pick up my fork and knife again, making an attempt to get as much good food in me as I can before it disappears again.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>Logan</strong>
</p><hr/><p>I follow Veronica through the living room to her bedroom, pulling my suitcase behind me. I’m so full of food I feel like I’m waddling and I’m a bit euphoric from being this stuffed. Cafeteria food was okay.  Veronica's mom's food was practically orgasmic. Closing the door behind me, I spy Veronica drop onto her single bed on her back like a starfish, spreading to each corner.</p><p>“So…I’m sleeping on the floor tonight?” I chuckle, dropping my carry-on next to her dresser and parking the suitcase near hers a few feet away.</p><p>Frowning up at me, she tucks her legs and arms to her body and rolls onto her side, hugging the edge of the bed. “No. We just <em>extreme spoon</em>.”</p><p>“<em>Extreme spoon</em>.” I laugh and come around behind her. If we were at home, it would be <em>my side</em> but this bed is so small, it could all be <em>my side</em> with my six-foot frame.</p><p>Sliding in next to her, I curl my body around hers, slipping my arm under her neck so my bicep replaces the pillow under her head. Her ass presses against my groin and my knees tuck behind hers. We both wiggle together, tucking ourselves neatly together and she releases a long sigh of contentment.</p><p>“See. We fit.”</p><p>I kiss the back of her head and chuckle. “All of my appendages will be numb tomorrow morning.”</p><p>“Well, we’ll be naked too. So getting rid of the bulk of our clothes should help.”</p><p>“Oh, I’m not going to be naked,” I protest. “Call me old fashioned, but I don’t want to run the risk of your parents hearing us have sex, thank you very much.”</p><p>As if to prove her point, she bucks her ass into me and my cock twitches in my jeans as she laughs. “Are you sure?”</p><p>Shifting away from her, I shake my body back and forth and the bed moves, slowly but surely, faster and faster until the metal headboard begins so hit the wall, the springs and frame sending up a high squeal. Veronica laughs and reaches back to grab my thigh.</p><p>"Okay! Stop.  I get it. We'll just have to cuddle for the next week."</p><p>Wrapping my arm around her waist, I pull her close, nuzzling her hair and she sighs.</p><p>"That actually sounds nice. I mean, sex is great, but I also enjoy just being next to you." The footsteps in the room above us get louder and we both turn our heads to look up to the ceiling. “And it will keep <em>that</em> from happening.”</p><p>A little snort of laughter rises from Veronica and we continue to follow the footsteps as they move around. “Do you think they’re trying to send us a message?”</p><p>“Look, I don’t care how open and honest our teachers were about sex, I’m pretty sure that your parents don’t want to hear us having sex any more than we want them to hear us having sex.”</p><p>“You’re right about that.” Veronica rolls in my arms to face me and plants a small kiss on my nose as she moves into a comfortable position. “Let’s leave some aspects of our lives private, shall we?” I reciprocate her kiss on her lips and she sighs. “Considering the Government knows everything about us, right down to our DNA, maybe a couple of secrets are okay.”</p><p>My fingers trail up her arm, moving across her cheek to sweep her hair behind her ear. For a moment, I try to collect my thoughts about what Keith told us at breakfast, and how my mind won’t stop thinking about it.</p><p>“I keep wondering...if Duncan tested high for traits that involved his anger, what did it say about me?”</p><p>Veronica reaches up and presses her palm to my cheek, frowning. “What are you saying? That you think you should have been eliminated from partnerships too?”</p><p>“I don’t know….” I shrug, my hand coming down to rest on her hip. “I mean, you saw what I was like when I found out what happened with Duncan...I was legitimately ready to kill him.”</p><p>“But you didn’t.”</p><p>“But I didn’t.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>She sits up on the edge of the bed, her arm bracing herself as she leans towards me, her eyes firm and serious.</p><p>“I...I could’t. I mean, I thought about it, but I couldn’t.” I exhale hard, tucking my hand behind my head on the pillow. “As mad as I was, there was no way I could take his life. But I could easily beat him to a bloody pulp.”</p><p>“And why? Was it something inside you that you learned? Or something more that kept you from going further?”</p><p>Pausing, I replay the scene in my head. Seeing Duncan’s face and the overwhelming urge to smash it with my fist bubbles in my belly once more. The thought of how he hurt Veronica—the image of his hands around her wrists—and the hurt and fear in her eyes when she told me. Then, the feeling of my mother, smoothing my hair as I tried to sleep, in pain, after Aaron spanked me so hard I could barely lay down in my bed.</p><p>“I wanted to teach him a lesson,” I murmur. “Like my father taught me. You break the rules, you get punished. Physically.  Emotionally. And my anger scares me to death, because I don’t want to turn out like him.”</p><p>“Logan, that’s just part of what your father taught you. Obviously, it is not part of your DNA, or Orwell would have eliminated you from being matched. ”</p><p>“I don’t know, Veronica…” Emotion starts to rise like a giant lump in my throat, catching my words. “What if <em>Orwell</em> made a mistake?”</p><p>Her fingers brush through my hair and I close my eyes, trying to keep back my tears. That’s when my brain begins to falter, sending a wave through me of self-loathing, reminding me that I don’t deserve her love.</p><p>“There was no mistake, Logan.” Her voice is soft and calm and I keep my eyes shut, trying to focus on her words. “You are a kind, loving man, who was handed a rotten, rotten father. But still, you’ve risen above it.  <em>Orwell</em> must have seen that in the answers on your test. It must have seen that you’re smart, and caring, and loving, and that’s why it put you with me.” Her breath is shaky and I open my eyes to see her looking down with a glassy gaze. “You chose not to follow in your father’s footsteps. You chose to volunteer and help people. You chose to be a good friend to people and a loving partner.  And that’s what sets you apart from Duncan.  You made choices in your life that were so much different from his, and that’s why we’re here now, together.”</p><p>I rise slightly and she forces a smile across her lips. “Now, you need to make the next hard choice, Logan. You need to follow through on what we talked about and tell my father about what happened to you.  You need to break free of Aaron and everything he’s done and get the help you need so you can move on. So <em>we</em> can move on, healthier and happier.”</p><p>Taking in a sharp breath, I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment.  She’s right.  I know that she’s right. I said it myself a few days ago. But being here, now, it’s feels so much harder to do.</p><p>“You don’t have to do it now,” she whispers. “We have a week here. But you know that I’ll be here to support you when you decide to do it.”</p><p>When her hand rests gently on my arm, I open my eyes once more to see the tears running down her cheeks. I open my arms, laying back down on the pillow and she curls into them, as her head presses against my chest. I kiss the top of her head, my arms closing around her.</p><p>“I will. I promise you, I will.” My cheek presses against her crown and she relaxes into my embrace. “If I can’t do it for myself, then I’ll do it for you, Veronica. Because I want us to have a long and happy life together.”</p><p>“I want us to be happy, Logan.  I want you to be happy, that’s all. Truly and unequivocally happy.”</p><p>
  <em>Happy.</em>
</p><p>“You make me happy, Veronica.  The kind of happy I haven’t felt since I was a child.” Pausing, I close my eyes, letting my memories safely wander with her in my arms. “My earliest memory I have was me being happy, with my mom. I must have been three or four years old—before Aaron started to abuse me. We were on a set and we took a walk down by the beach. It was morning and the tide was receding and the sand was so shiny and flat that it looked like glass. We took off our shoes and we walked barefoot, making tracks together while she laughed at the seagulls swooping over us.  She let me fill my pockets with seashells and rocks, and when we got back to the set, she gave me glue and I glued them on a piece of plywood from a set. When I showed her what I made, she cried and took it back to her office and leaned it up behind her desk. She still has it there.”</p><p>Veronica is quiet and for a second, I think she may have fallen asleep.  But a tiny sniffle lets me know she’s awake and I look down to see her looking back at me through teary eyes.</p><p>“Maybe then that’s what <em>Orwell</em> saw in you, Logan.  Maybe it saw the nurture of a mother’s love in you, and it balanced out whatever Aaron has done.”</p><p>My heart swells and I kiss her forehead tenderly, lingering to take in the soft vanilla scent of her. Laying back down, I pull her closer, my eyes lifting to the ceiling once more.</p><p>“Maybe, Veronica.  Maybe.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Chapter 31</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: discussion of child abuse<br/>TW: discussion of alcoholism</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <strong>Veronica</strong>
</p><hr/><p>My spontaneous nap did me well. Logan and I really didn’t mean to fall asleep, but it was so cozy with him in my old bed, that it just happened.  When we awoke, he decided to have a shower, but I needed more coffee. After showing him where the towels were and how you had to adjust the hot water tap just-so or you would get scalded, I left him in my old bathroom with a quick peck on the lips.</p><p>Alone in my room, I reach deep into the closet and grab the pink unicorn t-shirt from where I left it and toss my dingy travel outfit onto the ground. Grabbing a fresh pair of jeans, I pull them on, along with the t-shirt, ready to take on the rest of the day. I can still smell the coffee as I pad through the empty living room, following its glorious scent.  Fresh coffee beans was a little splurge my mother insisted on. After several months of gross vacuum sealed grounds, I can now see why.</p><p>My mom is sitting at the kitchen table, papers spread in front of her, a coffee cup near her hand. Her long hair drapes down the back of the chair, and for a second I remember how much we used to look like one another, when my hair was the same.  She turns to me and smiles, moving her chair back so she can see me.</p><p>“Oh! You’re both awake!”</p><p>“How did you know we were asleep?”</p><p>“We heard Logan snoring through the door.” My mother giggles and I blush.</p><p>Heading for the big coffee pot, I turn my back to Mom and grab a cup from the drying rack near the sink, giving it a quick shake to get the water out before pouring the coffee in.</p><p>“He does that sometimes. I've gotten used to it."</p><p>“Well, we didn’t want to disturb you both.  I wasn’t sure how much sleep you got on the plane.”</p><p>Shaking my head, I bring the hot mug to my lips and take a tentative sip. <em>Still too hot. Damn</em>.</p><p>“We didn’t get much sleep at all. But I was so excited to be home that I think I forgot.” Wandering back to the table, I look across at the papers and frown. “What’s all this?”</p><p>Mom takes a long, slow breath and begins to pull the papers into a pile. “This is my homework. I’m taking some career retraining so I can work at the bank as a teller.”</p><p>“That’s great, Mom!” I slide into my seat across from her, watching as she slips the papers into a plastic folder and puts them aside. “I’m glad you’re finding something else to do with your time, now that I’m gone.”</p><p>“I am, Veronica.  It’s been hard, but I’m trying.”</p><p>
  <em>I’m trying.</em>
</p><p>I know what she’s saying.  It isn’t just about her career, it’s about her drinking as well.  She cradles her coffee mug, her focus dropping down to its contents. For a moment, we sit in awkward silence, and I honestly don’t know how to respond. It seems strange right now, how Logan and I could have found a short-hand, a comfort level with each other to discuss anything and everything, and yet with my mother, I’m at a loss for words.</p><p>“Veronica…I…I’m sorry. For everything.”</p><p>My breath hitches in shock. I guess we’re doing this.  Right here. Right now. My eyes dart to the doorway and I hope that Logan takes a very long time in the shower, because some things needed to be said, by not only by my mother, but by me as well.</p><p>Stomach tightening, I steady myself, preparing for her words. She doesn’t raise her gaze from her cup, and I know it’s hard for her, but a small part of me wants it to be hard.  Wants her to have to work for it, to make everything right again.  Even though it probably was never <em>right</em> to begin with.</p><p>“I want you to know, I’m seeing a counsellor for my drinking problem,” she continues slowly, methodically. “The doctor doesn’t feel that I need to be admitted to a treatment centre, yet, but they are monitoring my progress.” Mom pushes her mug away and finally looks me in the eyes. “I talk to a counsellor twice a day by phone—once in the morning and then once in the evening. She checks in, and we discuss when I feel I needed a drink during the day, what triggered my craving, and how I handled it.”</p><p>I nod, giving her some little form of encouragement.  It’s as much as I can manage right now.</p><p>“Last night, when we talked, I told her you were coming home, and she counseled me on the importance of <em>making amends</em> to you for my behaviour.”</p><p>“You mean how you gaslit me all through my childhood?” The words come out fast and sharp. It would seem that any goodwill I felt this morning, in the presence of breakfast, was long gone.</p><p>Mom’s deep blue eyes go wide in shock for a moment, her lip trembles, as if she’s about to burst into tears, but she quickly composes herself, clearing her throat and tossing her long, white-blond hair over her shoulder.</p><p>“Yes. Well. That. I always forget that your generation knows all the counselling lingo from school.”</p><p>I can’t hold back the snort of ironic laughter that rises from me and I cross my arms over my chest, leaning back a bit in my chair.</p><p>“We do. Because at school, we were taught to try and deal with our problems. How to talk with our friends and partners. Life Skills 101. Sexual Health 201. Too bad at home, my mother had me convinced that if I dealt with the problem, she would go away forever.”</p><p>Emotion bubbles in my chest and tears begin to prick at my eyes. I blink them back quickly, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing me upset. She doesn’t get my emotion anymore. I won’t give it to her to manipulate again.</p><p>“Veronica, I was scared….”</p><p>“You were scared?” I spit back, rolling my eyes. “I was a child! You had me convinced that if I told anyone about your drinking that you would be sent away!  I was terrified I would lose you!”</p><p>“I know and…”</p><p>Pushing my chair back with a screech, I stand and pace away from her, towards the back door. Escape. My first instinct is to run. Run away from this conversation, run away from the memories now tweaking my brain, run away from it all.</p><p>“No, Mom, you don’t know.” Grabbing the edge of the kitchen island to anchor myself to the spot, I shake my head, keeping my back turned to her, trying to keep control.  Slowly, I turn to face her.</p><p>“In school, we learned about all the children who were separated from their families at our borders, when they tried to enter the country. We learned about how, during the war, the government would take mothers and fathers from their homes at night, and children would wake up the next morning, suddenly alone to take care of themselves, with no clue if their parents were alive or dead.  We learned about how people were going about their business in their cities and a nuclear bomb was dropped on them, killing everyone in an instant.” Taking a slow breath I scowl, my stomach churning in anger and disgust. “And then, I come home, and my Mother has me convinced that if I tell anyone her secret, that she will get taken away, so I have to be a good girl, and hide it, from everyone.  Do you know that you did such a good job convincing me, that I actually made myself believe that it was normal? That it was just how our family was? And it wasn’t until Logan told me about….”</p><p>I clamp my lips shut, my hand reaching for my chest and I freeze in horror of what I almost said, in the heat of my own trauma. My breath is shaky, and I close my eyes, trying to calm myself down.</p><p>“Veronica, I’m sorry. What I did was selfish, but you need to know, that my alcoholism is part of my coping with <em>living</em> through all the events you just spoke of, and more.” Opening my eyes, I refocus on Mom, tears now running down her face. Wringing her hands, she turns in her chair to face me.</p><p>“I lost my father in the politics leading up to the war, not to death, but because he chose the side of prejudice and racism and greed, and my mother and I left him to wallow in that hatred. I lost my dreams in the actual war, when the college I had applied to get my fine arts degree was obliterated. I lost the man I loved all through high school to <em>Orwell</em>, and the choices made for him by a new system.” Wiping her eyes with her palms, she squares her shoulders, her features turning stoic and cold. “This does not excuse my behavior, Veronica. None of it does. But you need to know that you are leading a life that is so much different than the life I have experienced. Because there weren’t counsellors at that time to help us work through things, unless you had money, and our education system was in shambles. There was nothing but chaos and loss for years, and we all just made do, as best we could, with whatever lives we had left when the fighting ended.”</p><p>Mom stands and walks towards me and I’m too numb to move, my brain trying to process what she’s telling me, and so, when she wraps her arms around me in a giant hug, I don’t resist, but I don’t move to hug her back either.</p><p>“I’m sorry for what I did, Veronica. I shouldn’t have manipulated your emotions. You were only a child and I’m so sorry. I hope that, with time, you can trust me again.”</p><p>The warmth of her touch thaws me, and I squeeze my eyes shut, allowing my arms to move around her body to return her affections. When I do, she pulls me closer to her, rocking gently, and now I can’t hold back my tears, gasping as I sob. She strokes my hair, like she did when I was a child and couldn’t sleep, soothing my heart.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Veronica.  I’m so sorry.”</p><p>“I just didn’t want to lose you…” I gasp, my grip tightening around her. “I just didn’t want to lose you like my friend lost his mother.  That’s all.”</p><p>“You won’t lose me, Veronica. You could never lose me. I’m always with you, always in your heart.” She pulls back slightly to look me in the eye, her fingers now brushing the tears away from my cheeks. “You and your father are the best things that ever happened to me and that’s why I’m working so hard to make things better for myself, for you both, so we can continue on as a family.” She gives a small laugh and shakes her head. “So maybe, eventually, I can be a better grandmother than a mother.”</p><p>I guffaw and shake my head and she giggles at my reaction. “That’s not happening for a while, Mom. You’ve got plenty of time.”</p><p>“Ah.” She sighs, a wry grin on her face. “So the squeaking of the bed we heard earlier…”</p><p>“Oh. My. God!” I push away from her arms, my cheeks on fire. Mom tosses back her head in a high laugh and shakes her finger at me.</p><p>“All these years, you teased me about being a prude, but you can’t take it either, can you?”</p><p>Gasping, I clutch my chest. “I am offended, Mother.  Offended!”</p><p>Playfully slapping my shoulder, Mom laughs again.</p><p>“Oh come now…we’re both two old married…sorry…<em>partnered</em> women. We can talk about these things.”</p><p>My mouth drops open in horror at the thought of telling my mother anything about Logan and my sex life. Open and honest communication is one thing. Trading sex secrets with my mother was quite another. There was no way I wanted her to tell me about her and…</p><p>“Ew.” Bile collects in my throat and I choke back the thought of my mother and father doing anything but watching old movies together on the couch. “No, we can’t, Mom. Logan was making a point about us squeezed into the tiny bed together. Nothing was happening other than him trying to be funny about the lack of privacy we had, that’s all.”</p><p>"Well, it certainly was amusing." Her hand drops tenderly onto my crossed arms. “That’s all right. We can talk about many other things together instead.”</p><p>Once again, I’m overwhelmed with emotion. In my belly sits the anger from her actions, twisting and tightening. In my heart sits my love for her, and all the good memories I have of the two of us, when the alcohol was not a problem. She used to braid my hair before school when I was young, humming weird little songs while she worked. When my dad would go out of town, the first night was always ice-cream and movie night, and she would paint my nails with purple sparkling nail polish. The first time I bought a bra, and got all teary in the change room over the fact that I was becoming a “woman.”</p><p>Covering her hand with mine, I sigh. “Yeah, Mom. We can.”</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>Logan</strong>
</p><hr/><p>I feel like a new man after that shower. The gross smell of “airplane”—musty recycled air, and feet—is finally out of my nose. Instead,  I now smell like Veronica—vanilla and sugar—thanks to her body wash and shampoo, since I forgot to pack my own.  We’re supposed to keep a low profile while we’re here, at the insistence of the Security System, but I may need to run out and get a bar of unscented soap and shampoo.</p><p>Veronica said something about getting more coffee, so I make my way out of the bedroom, in clean jeans and a black t-shirt to find her and another cup as well.  In the living room, I’m greeted by Mr. Mars, sitting on the couch, the newspaper spread out on the coffee table in front of him.</p><p>“Well, good morning again, Logan,” he chuckles.</p><p>“Good morning...again, Mr. Mars.” Stopping by a plaid armchair, I glance around, not completely sure what to do with myself.</p><p>“Oh please, call me Keith,” he replies and points to the chair. “Why don’t you have a seat? Veronica and Lianne are just having a bit of a personal chat in the kitchen right now. I want to give them some space.”</p><p>“Oh…okay….” Glancing in the direction of the kitchen, I wonder if this had to do with Lianne’s drinking. Veronica had expressed her hesitation about confronting her mother with her behaviour. I guess that close quarters meant it happened sooner rather than later.</p><p>Sliding into the chair, I start to fidget, trying to find a comfortable way to sit. Apparently, in the presence of Keith Mars, I’ve forgotten how. Do I go with sitting back, arms crossed?  Or does that seem menacing?  Maybe leaning forward? Or is that too casual?</p><p>“You okay, son?”</p><p>“Yeah. I’m fine.” Pulling my ankle up onto my knee, I settle in and lean back. “Just got a little too used to either sitting at a desk, or stretched out in bed when I study. We don’t have a lot of furniture to choose from in our dorm room.”</p><p>Keith leans back and laughs, scratching the stubble on his cheek. “Those dorms aren’t that comfortable, are they?”</p><p>“We’ve made it work.” I smile, thinking about our home. “Thank you for the money to get us started. Veronica did a great job making the space feel cozy.  I mean, still no room for a couch or a chair like this…” I pat the cushioned arms of the chair and laugh. “But it’s still nice.”</p><p>“You’re more than welcome, Logan. I’m glad you both used it to set yourselves up well.” He pauses and takes a slow breath. “Back in the old days, when a couple got <em>married</em>, they would receive gifts from people to help them set up their new home.  I wanted to save some money for Veronica so she could do the same, once she was partnered.”</p><p>“Well, again, thank you. I think it made a difference, allowing us to make the place <em>ours</em>. We’ve made friends with a couple—Wallace and Jackie—who are expecting a baby and got into the family housing. They really turned their little house into a beautiful <em>home</em>, in a very short time.”</p><p>“Ah! It’s good to hear that you’re both making friends at college. It’s nice to have another couple to talk to.”</p><p>“We’re pretty lucky. In a short time, they’ve really turned into great friends.” I nod, thinking about the fun we had with them before we left. “Wallace is the one who saved my life after the explosion. He also spotted another buddy of ours—Jeff Ratner—in the rubble and we were able to get him out as well.”</p><p>“Really?  That’s interesting.” Keith’s eyes narrow, his lips purse in thought. “You know, the news is still covering it as an accident, and they aren’t saying much about the details right now, just to keep any members of C.H.A.D. from panicking. I mean, as a District Head on the force, I'm privy to a lot of things, but not all of it.”</p><p>“That makes sense,” I concur. “They probably don’t want us to panic either.  I can imagine that the news of a terrorist organization operating in Nova Terra again would cause people concern.”</p><p>Keith stares at me in silence before a wry smile crosses his lips. “I almost forgot that you’re in the political stream,” he states slowly. “And with a comment like that, I can see why.”</p><p>Fear ripples through me, chilling my bones. I’ve said something wrong. I may want to start running sentences through my head before I speak. But then Keith lets out a deep chuckle, shaking his head and I’m not sure what to think.</p><p>“Don’t look so spooked, Logan. I mean that as a compliment.”</p><p><em>Spooked? </em> My face must have given away too much. Again.</p><p>“Um….thanks?” I exhale loudly and he laughs again.</p><p>“I just mean that you know when the people need to know <em>everything</em>, and when it’s in everyone’s best interests to hold back, that’s all.  That level of intelligence and empathy is not something that comes along every day, but it means that you’re going to be a damn good leader someday.”</p><p>My veins thaw as warmth spreads from my heart.  A compliment. It had been a while since I had heard one of those from any parental figure. Teachers, all the time. Veronica...well...she had her own way of complimenting me. But this was monumental and I drop my head, trying to hide the huge smile that threatens to spread across my face.</p><p>“Thank you, Keith.  I appreciate it.”</p><p>“Your parents must be proud that you were placed in this career too. Carrying on the family tradition of activism and responsibility to the country.”</p><p>I can’t help the snort of laughter that escapes me. “If you’re talking about my mother, then yes, she is.”</p><p>“Ah, well, I think we can all admit that Lynn Echolls is the brains behind that couple, can’t we?” Keith arches his eyebrow at me and leans forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Your father likes to take the accolades, but I was around during the war, and Lynn Lester was known in my rebel circles as a person of great intelligence and cunning, in the best possible use of the word.  When you would come over to my home, as Veronica’s friend, I always saw more of her in you than I ever saw of your father.”</p><p>“Well, I take<em> that </em>as a huge compliment. Thank you.”</p><p>Keith sweeps his hand over his bald head. “Not much of a fan of your old man, I take it?”</p><p>Arching my eyebrow suspiciously at Keith, I shrug. “Not much of a fan of Aaron either, I take it?”</p><p>“Can’t say that I am…” Keith shakes his head, pointing his finger at me. “Interesting that we’re on the same page as each other.”</p><p>“It is...interesting.” Leaning back into the chair, I regard my father-in-law as he eyes me.</p><p>I’m not sure where he’s going with this line of questioning, but I’m fascinated to see how it plays out. I know that all of my secrets are safe with Veronica, but am curious as to how much Keith dislikes Aaron.</p><p>“What did you tell your mother and father about your injury in the explosion?”</p><p>“I haven’t,” I reply in a monotone. “Seemed no need to worry my mother needlessly.”</p><p>“So, they don’t know you’re in town?”</p><p>“No. Not yet.” I shrug.</p><p>“So we shouldn’t ask them over for dinner, then.”</p><p>All the blood drains from my face and I fight to keep from twitching at the idea of sitting across the table from Aaron ever again.</p><p>“There’s no need.” I reply, cooly. “I don’t feel the need to see them quite yet.”</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>I inhale, sharp and loud, my eyes drifting around the room. It looks so much like a <em>home</em> and it has nothing to do with the couch or the rug and everything to do with the photos of Veronica, sprinkled in small frames on shelves and tables around the room. Some have her parents in the pictures with her, some are just her, when she was younger.  And then, I see it. There’s a photo of Veronica and I, sitting together at the restaurant after our partnership ceremony.  Rising, I walk over to it, across the room on shelf with some little knick knacks around it. I pick it up and see the moment someone was able to capture on film. Even though she was cool to me that night, I made her laugh, just once. At the precise moment this picture was taken, she is smiling up at me, her eyes squinting slightly and I’m staring down at her, so thrilled that I made her laugh, in spite of herself. I sweep the bit of dust that has collected along the top of the frame, keeping my eyes on it as I refocus my brain on Keith’s question.</p><p>“Let’s just put it this way...my relationship with my family is quite different from the one I am trying to develop with Veronica.”</p><p>“How so, Logan?”</p><p>I frown at the picture, the months since it was taken flashing through my head, as my heart swells with love.</p><p>“Everything is on the table with Veronica. We have no secrets. We talk out our problems. We apologize for our behaviours. We support each other in a way that I never thought was possible.”</p><p>“And how is that different from your family?”</p><p>Fear grips my belly and I squeeze my eyes shut, suddenly assaulted by memories of Aaron screaming at me. Berating me. Grabbing my arm and shaking me until I thought my head would fall off my neck.</p><p>“Dad!  Stop it.”</p><p>My eyes fly open as I turn towards Veronica’s voice, finding her standing near the chair I just vacated next to her mother. That’s when I realize, the whole room is focused on me and my hand shakes, clinging to the edge of the frame.</p><p>“This isn’t one of your interrogations,” Veronica snaps at him as she quickly moves across the room to me, her eyes wide with concern.</p><p>“It wasn’t meant to be, Veronica.” Keith stands, momentarily flustered. “I don’t understand…”</p><p>Her hand tenderly lays on mine. “Are you okay?” she whispers.</p><p>I do a mental inventory. <em>Am I okay?</em> I’m not sure. My head is telling me to deflect with a joke or quip. My heart is ecstatic that she’s here with me now. But in my belly, something else twists.</p><p>“I think so.” I sigh, regaining my composure.  Placing the frame back in its spot, I take Veronica’s hand and bring it to my lips, kissing it gently.</p><p>And she knows. Somehow, she knows and she grasps my hand harder, giving me a slight nod.</p><p>“I’m here. You can do this.”</p><p>I nod back, my body falling numb. Self preservation.  My brain was used to it. Dull the senses to survive.  Veronica steps back, giving me a clear view to her father and I take a deep breath, gathering myself for what needs to happen next.</p><p>“You asked how my life with Veronica was different from that of my family, Keith, and I feel like I need to tell you that the main way is that we don’t have any secrets. Because, in my family, we have a lot of secrets.” I pause and Keith frowns with concern. “There are the secrets about my father’s affairs.  And the ones about how he spends the money the government gives him for his propaganda films.” Veronica cc my hand and my focus drops to the floor, unable to look at anyone. “But the biggest secret is his treatment of me...since I was a child.” Another wave of numbing calm washes over me as I find my words. “How he abused me.”</p><p>My words are greeted with a dead silence. Veronica’s hand gently lands on my lower back and I involuntarily flinch.</p><p>“Logan….” Keith says softly and I see his shadow on the carpet move closer to me but I can’t get myself to raise my head to look. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”</p><p>“He had me convinced he would kill me. Or my mom. Or both.”</p><p>The shadow moves again and I step back, Veronica staying by my side. I start to squirm again. Existing in my own skin seems overwhelming right now and I just want to get out.</p><p>“Logan. I’m so sorry you didn’t feel you could report it to anyone,” Keith states quietly, staying in his spot. “But now that you’ve told me, we can deal with him.” He takes a deep breath and I look up to see his hand extending out into the air as if he wants to comfort me without actually touching me, but I shrink back again, a little further out of reach.</p><p>“I don’t know if we can,” I murmur, shaking my head. “In one of his last threats to me, he said if I told Veronica about how I really got the scars on my body, that he’d hurt my mother. Disfigure her, as a matter of fact.”</p><p>“Oh my God,” Lianne gasps from across the room and I look up to see her covering her mouth with her hands. “Keith, you have to help them.”</p><p>“I will, Lianne. I just need all the information first…” Keith waves her off and I finally have the guts to look him in dead in the eye. “Logan...what scars do you have?”</p><p>Veronica steps closer, her palm resting on my chest. She has this air of calm, like she can handle anything, and I’m overcome with a sense of feeling safe here, with her.</p><p>“It’s okay, Logan.  You can show him.”</p><p>With a short nod, I turn around and squeeze my eyes shut, keeping myself steady as I raise my t-shirt up my back. I hear Lianne gasp again and Veronica’s hand rests on my shoulder.</p><p>“How...how did you get those, Logan?” Keith’s voice cracks and I drop my shirt down, unable yet to turn around to face him.</p><p>“A belt. Aaron would beat me with a belt. I was told to claim they were from an accident on a set, but Veronica knew better than to listen to my lies.”</p><p>“Your lies are not your fault, Logan. All of this, it’s Aaron’s fault,” she says. I pivot towards her and she wraps her arms around my waist, her head pressing to my chest. “This is all on Aaron, and he’s going to pay for his abuse.”</p><p>I take another long breath, wrapping Veronica in a deep hug, my cheek resting on the top of her head as I face Keith. His fist is tightly clenched against his lips, his eyes narrow with anger. And even though I know it’s not directed at me, my conditioning makes me flinch at the sight of another angry father in my presence.</p><p>“She’s right, Logan. Aaron will pay for his abuse,” Keith states.</p><p>Letting go of Veronica, I step away towards Keith. “But my mother…”</p><p>He raises his palm and I stop dead in my tracks. “I’ll make sure nothing happens to Lynn. I promise you that, Logan. But in the meantime, I want your permission to call in a team to get a full statement from you…” He takes a sharp breath and points to me. “And photograph those scars as evidence.”</p><p>Glancing over at Veronica, I nod to her and she nods back.</p><p>“You have my permission,” I whisper.</p><p>“Good. Now I’m going to warn you both...this is going to happen very quickly, so brace yourselves.,” Keith runs both hands across his bald head, his eyes wide and he gets this look in his eyes that’s exactly like Veronica’s when she’s thinking and I can see the gears spinning in her head.</p><p>Turning, he points to Lianne. “Honey, I want you to call up Lynn and ask her to come over for a visit tonight.  Some ‘woman time’ or something like that. Tell her you have exciting news about Veronica and Logan that you want to share. If need be, tell her it involves possible grandchildren, that’ll get her over.” He tosses Veronica a wink and I can’t help but smile when she rolls her eyes at him.</p><p>“Really Dad? Couldn't be more creative.”</p><p>He tuts and shakes his finger at her, a crooked grin on his lips. “Please. We all heard the bed squeaking this morning, Veronica. It’s a valid excuse.”</p><p>Veronica’s mouth drops open, releasing a strangled noise of indignation. “I told you guys that was a joke…”</p><p>Keith ignores her, his finger pointing back at me.“Now Logan, I want you to go right now and start writing down things you remember. Any dates or time periods of incidents. When my team gets here, it’s going to take a while to get all the details and I want you to have it all clear in your head before you talk to them.” Keith clears his throat, and frowns.</p><p>“The thing about Aaron Echolls…I know for a fact that he has old friends from the War in the department. I’m going to need to move quietly and quickly to ensure yours and Lynn’s safety.  I also don’t want him catching wind and hopping on some flight to Mexico, you get me?”</p><p>“I get you, Keith. I can do whatever you ask. Let’s just get this done and over with, finally.”</p><p>And that’s when it hits me. A lightness slowly spreads over me and I stand there, basking in the sensation. It’s like the entire room is being pumped with pure oxygen and I feel almost euphoric as everything floats away from me.</p><p>
  <em>I’m free. I’m finally going to be free.</em>
</p><p>Veronica wraps her arms around my bicep and looks up at me and when I smile down at her, it feels like I’m smiling for the first time in my life.</p><p>“Are you okay?”</p><p>Kissing her forehead, I breath in the soft scent of her, relishing her presence. “Not yet. Not completely. But soon, Veronica.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It isn't lost on me that as I post this chapter, we all seem to be holding our breath about the U.S. elections. Much love to my American readers right now. I hope you get the best version of the future.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Chapter 32</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: discussion of child abuse<br/>TW: discussion of spousal abuse</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Veronica</strong>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>I sit with my mother in silence, my eyes alternating between watching the front door for signs of life and glancing down the hallway in the direction of my bedroom. I know that Logan needs some time to himself, after everything he’s gone through today, but all I want to do is lay down next to him and hold him until all the pain has left his body.</p>
<p>The officers showed up mid-afternoon, thinking they were picking up my father on the way to an investigation. Instead, Dad showed them upstairs to his bedroom, where Logan was waiting to speak to them. The entire time, I stayed in our room, trying to focus on the bit of homework I brought with me this week. Instead, I reread the same paragraph, over and over, as I imagined the hell Logan must have been going through behind those doors. When I finally heard the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs around dinner time, I came out to find my father, dressed in his uniform, accompanying the crew out the door. Logan followed a few minutes later, his eyes bloodshot and his face pale from exhaustion. My first instinct was to rush over and wrap my arms around him, but he put up his hand to stop me, choosing instead to drag himself to our room and shut the door behind him. As I stood dejectedly in the hallway, Mom gently took my hand to lead me to the kitchen, and together, we finished preparing a meal for four, but only the two of us ate it.</p>
<p>Now, we sit and wait for Lynn. It’s all part of the plan. She’s expected at 7:00 p.m. and it’s now five minutes past and I can’t help my knee as it bounces rapidly. The timing needs to be precise, Dad had said. Lynn was to arrive at 7:00 p.m. and Dad and his team were to arrest Aaron at a local restaurant at 7:15 p.m.  Dad called in a favor with a mutual friend and asked him to invite Aaron out for a drink that night. He wanted the arrest to be public, so that Aaron would be less likely to resist. He also wanted to make sure that Aaron wasn’t out with one of his mistresses while Lynn was occupied—another sordid fact Logan divulged to us before the team arrived. The speed with which the plan unfolded was shocking to me, but Dad explained that Aaron was the kind of person who had connections in high places. If he caught wind of what was happening—through a leak in my father’s department or a source in the courts—the whole plan was dead before it could be executed. And I got the distinct impression after Dad saw Logan’s scars that he was hell-bent on giving Aaron a one-way ticket to prison.</p>
<p>The doorbell rings and Mom and I jump to our feet. “I’ll get it,” she says, and waves at me to sit back down. With a sigh, I do what I’m told, my heart now beating in my ears.</p>
<p>Pausing at the door, Mom smooths down her beige blouse over her black pants and plasters a huge smile on her lips. Opening the door, her eyes light up with over-excitement at the sight of her guest.</p>
<p>“Lynn! I’m so glad to see you! It feels like forever.”</p>
<p>“Well, you call me about the possibility of grand babies, and I had to come running!” Lynn walks into my sight and she kisses Mom’s cheek, giving her a warm embrace. In her hand, she holds a bottle of champagne and I cringe at the thought of alcohol anywhere near my mom.</p>
<p>“Our babies having babies is an amazing thing…” Mom steps back to let Lynn in further and closes the door quickly, locking it behind them.</p>
<p>Lynn turns her back to the living room and waves the bottle of champagne at Mom. “I brought us something to celebrate with! I have to tell you, when you called, I was worried that you were about to tell me something happened to the kids when that pipe exploded on their campus. But I realized that if something had happened they would have called and told me, so it must be all good.”</p>
<p>Mom can’t take her eyes off the bottle of champagne and for a moment, she stumbles over her words. “Yes. They’re fine. I mean I heard Logan was hurt, but not badly.”</p>
<p>“What? Oh my God. Why wouldn’t he have called?” Lynn gasps and Mom glances towards me, her eyes growing wider.</p>
<p>“Oh, you know…boys…they’re terrible communicators….” Mom shrugs, her eyes now pleading with me for help.</p>
<p>Standing, I clear my throat and force a grin across my face. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Echolls, he wasn’t hurt badly at all.”</p>
<p>Lynn spins, her plump red lips parting in a gasp as she sees me. She’s dressed in a chic chocolate brown pantsuit and beige stiletto heels, in full makeup, as if she just walked off a set, and I can’t help but be intimidated by the sheer presence of her in the room.</p>
<p>“Veronica! Darling!” Quickly striding into the room, she bends to hug me, the cold bottle of champagne touching my back. “What are you doing here?”</p>
<p>She’s squeezing me a little too hard and I pat her on the shoulder and gasp, hoping she gets the hint and releases me.</p>
<p>“On a school break.” Lynn lets go and steps away, a giant grin on her face and I catch my breath. “After the bo…explosion…they gave us all a week off to deal with everything.”</p>
<p>“Oh, of course.” She clutches her heart and releases a heavy sigh. “So many lives lost. What a sad, sad accident.”</p>
<p>“It was. Logan was hit in the head by some debris on the jogging track, but he only needed a few stitches, so he was released quickly.” My eyes dart towards my room, wondering if he was going to join this conversation or if it was better for him to stay in hiding.</p>
<p>“So, he’s with you?”</p>
<p>Her voice rises is a way that sounds like excitement, but not quite. There’s something else going on and I realize when her eyes meet mine that it’s fear. Her big brown eyes are wide and wild, like an animal caught on the wrong side of a fence. Like Logan’s when I called him out about the story of his scars.</p>
<p>“He is,” I begin slowly, “but he’s resting. He was given the okay by doctors to travel, but he has to take it easy.”</p>
<p>“Well, I’m glad to hear it, but why didn’t he call me and tell me he was hurt? And for that matter, why didn’t he call and tell me you were coming?”</p>
<p>Mom comes around beside Lynn and places her hand on Lynn’s shoulder, smiling. “Logan is fine. He just wanted to surprise you, Lynn, that’s all.”</p>
<p>“Yes, that’s it…” I stammer and watch Lynn’s features soften with Mom’s words. Apparently, Mom lying about her alcoholism all these years has made her a pro at it.</p>
<p>“Oh, well then, he certainly succeeded! I am surprised!” She laughs, walking over to the couch and dropping dramatically down to sit, placing the bottle on the coffee table. “Now why don’t we have a drink to celebrate.” Lynn’s eyebrow cocks and a crooked grin spreads across her face and damn, if she doesn’t look like the feminine version of Logan right this second. “Except for you, Little Mama.”</p>
<p>I jerk my head in shock before remembering how we got Lynn over here in the first place. Dropping my hands to my belly, I look down at the bloated bump that appeared after two helpings of my mother’s manicotti for dinner.  <em>Baby Ricotta it is.</em></p>
<p>Laughing nervously, I try and remember how Jackie moves around the house. Deciding that standing may make my fake-baby-bump a little less pronounced, I ease myself back down into the chair, making sure to push out my stomach as I do.</p>
<p>“Guess I won’t be drinking for a while.”</p>
<p>“Well then, we’ll open this and have a few for you, won’t we, Lianne?”</p>
<p>I glance at my mother and she smiles nervously, fidgeting with her wedding ring. “I think I’ll pass on the champagne tonight, Lynn, but thank you for bringing it. I can open if for you and Logan, if you like, or maybe make you a coffee?”</p>
<p>Awkward silence spreads through the room and my eyes dart to the clock on the mantle. It’s 7:16 p.m. We need to keep Lynn here for at least an hour or more, until Dad returns. She’s been here ten minutes and already, things have gotten so weird that even I want to leave.</p>
<p>“A coffee would be wonderful,” Lynn murmurs as she looks past me towards my bedroom. “Thank you, Lianne.”</p>
<p>“I’ll get you one. Be right back.” Mom gives me a tense smile before disappearing back to the kitchen, leaving Lynn and I alone together.</p>
<p>Placing my hands on my belly again, I drum my fingers on the stretching pink fabric. I almost forgot I was wearing the unicorn t-shirt and in Lynn’s presence, I feel like a kid dressed this way.</p>
<p>“So, you must not be that far along,” Lynn begins slowly, leaning forward as her eyes skim my body. “I mean, it’s only November, and you both left at the end of August, so unless you conceived the night of your partnership ceremony…”</p>
<p>“No! Not very far along at all.” I interject, panic running through me. “Just got confirmation before we left so Logan and I are still adjusting to the…er…surprise.”</p>
<p>Pursing her lips, Lynn looks me over again, her eyes narrowing and I wonder if I’m over acting this pregnant thing. Exhaling slowly, I ease myself back so my belly doesn’t look nearly as big.</p>
<p>“Well, I must say, you’re radiant, Veronica. Just glowing,” Lynn coos. She clasps her hands and brings them to her lips and for a second, I think she’s going to cry, but instead, she lets out a deep sigh. “I’m just so happy that Logan was partnered with someone who loves him and wants to start a family with him.”</p>
<p>Warmth spreads through me at the mention of loving Logan and suddenly I’m the one blinking back tears.</p>
<p>“I do love him and I do want to start a family with him, Mrs. Echolls.” I bring my hands up to my lips, trying to hold in my emotions. “I know I was hesitant about our match when it was made, but over these past few months, I’ve come to see what a kind and loving man he is. What a thoughtful and considerate friend he is. And what an intelligent and empathetic politician he’ll become. There is no one else in this world I would want as a partner and father to my children.”</p>
<p>When a hand comes down on my shoulder, I jump and turn to see Logan looking down at me, a wobbly smile pulling across his face. The bags that were under his eyes have disappeared, replaced by a healthy pink glow on his cheeks. I want to leap to my feet and smother him in kisses, but instead, he leans down and tenderly kisses my forehead.</p>
<p>“I love you too,” he whispers.</p>
<p>“Oh Logan, I’m so happy for you.” Lynn stands and opens her arms to her son.</p>
<p>With a heavy sigh, Logan walks across the room to embrace his mother, just as mine shows back up, pausing with the hot coffee cup in her hand. I shrug to her and she walks around behind me towards Lynn and places the mug on the table.</p>
<p>“Thanks, Mom. I only wish it were true.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>My mother comes and stands beside my chair and reaches her hand out for mine. I grab it and squeeze. This was going to get ugly.</p>
<p>Stepping back from Lynn, Logan rubs his face with his palms and sighs again, louder and slower, as if gathering his strength once more today. I rise from the chair and take a step towards him but Mom gives me a little tug, and when I turn to see her, she has that look in her eye that she had when I was a kid that tells me, <em>stay put and be quiet.</em> Nodding, I move back a bit, giving Logan and Lynn some space.</p>
<p>“Veronica’s not pregnant. That’s a lie we made up to get you here, alone.” Logan reaches for Lynn’s hands, as confusion paints her face. “We needed you to come here without Aaron, so you would be safe.”</p>
<p>“Safe?” A high blush tinges her cheeks as she glances our way, then back to Logan. “Safe from what, Logan?”</p>
<p>“Safe from Dad, Mom.” Logan glances over at the clock. “Because right now, Keith Mars is arresting him with other members of the Security System for his years of abuse towards me.”</p>
<p>All the colour drains from Lynn’s face and her hands start to shake in Logan’s. Her eyes dart between us all, wide and filled with fear.</p>
<p>“Logan…I…you can’t….you just….can’t…”</p>
<p>The muscles in my chest constrict, gripping my heart at her words. I want to scream at her, and I know Logan must too by the way the corner of his lip twitches, but he doesn’t. Instead, he rights his shoulders and drops her hands.</p>
<p>“I can and I did, Mother.”</p>
<p>“No. No no no no…” Lynn walks away from him towards the back wall and begins to pace, her eyes darting from us to the windows to the door. “No, you can’t. Don’t you see? None of us will be safe.”</p>
<p>Stepping around the coffee table, Logan places himself near the entryway to the living room, blocking the route to the front door.</p>
<p>“We weren’t safe before, but we’ll be safe now with him behind bars, Mom. Keith will take care of everything. That’s why you’re here, with us now. He’s going to take care of Aaron and then come and help you find a safe place to stay until Aaron is locked away, permanently.”</p>
<p>Lynn’s torso rocks back and forth as she paces, her hands gripping her spiky brown hair. “It won’t matter, Logan. It won’t! Don’t you get it? Don’t you see?”</p>
<p>“See what, Mom?” Logan’s voice begins to rise, his hands waving towards her. “See what his secrets have done to us? See how he’s twisted both you and I to act like this is normal? See how he’s made us both cowards?!”</p>
<p>“No!” Lynn barks back, stopping in her tracks and pointing across to Logan. “Don’t you see that nothing has changed, Logan. Absolutely nothing!!”</p>
<p>“<em>Everything</em> has changed, Mom! We’re free!”</p>
<p>“Free? Free? We were never free, Logan! And we never will be!” Lynn’s voice is now high and frantic as her body shakes with anger and fear. “Don’t you see that everything we fought for in the war is a lie? All of these things still happen—the misogyny and the racism and the abuse —they all still happen, it’s just been driven back underground, to lurk in the shadows.”</p>
<p>“That’s not true!” Logan spits back, his face contorted with anger.</p>
<p>“It is true! We’re all supposed to be equal but your father has a connection to people and things that comes with the privilege of working for the government…” Her finger flies up to point at me. “Same as Keith Mars. There are still those who will have more money and power in this country, but it’s all now a secret. It’s hidden from view. And if you think that your father won’t use every dime he has locked away in some safe somewhere to make sure that I end up disfigured or dead, then you’re fooling yourself.”</p>
<p>My mouth drops open to argue with her but my brain shuts it down as the thought of my father getting the confidential files about Duncan’s DNA tests swims through my memory. How he managed to save enough money to give as a gift to Logan and I when we went to college. How he covertly coordinated the arrest of Aaron Echolls from the security of our home.</p>
<p>
  <em>Lynn was right.</em>
</p>
<p>“I fought in that goddamn war thinking everything would change,” Lynn hisses, tears dropping down her cheeks. “I lost friends. I watched loved ones die. I even married your father thinking that this world had changed, so he would too. And it did for a time, when we were all working together to create a better world, but it hasn’t. At least not for me.”</p>
<p>The room becomes a vacuum as all the air seems to rush out, leaving us breathless and silent. What was there to say? I couldn’t come up with any words to contradict what Lynn said and in fact, some of it rang true. If privilege still existed, then we were never really a <em>New Democracy</em>. We were the old one, living in a different skin.</p>
<p>“It is a different world, Mom. It’s a much different world,” Logan starts quietly, walking slowly towards her. “I do believe that we are equal now. I do believe that we treat each other better, more humanely. But I also do believe that the world we learned about that existed before the war is still out there, lurking. Which is why we have to stand up to it when we see it. Stand up to the misogyny and racism and abuse because now, we have a system that has empowered us to deal with those things, swiftly.” He glances over his shoulder at me and nods before turning back to his mom. “It’s also why I feel like Veronica and I were chosen to walk the path we were by <em>Orwell</em>, because both of us believe, deep down, that there is a better way for our country, and we want to be a part of continuing that for generations to come.”</p>
<p>Logan stops in front of Lynn, looking her straight in the eyes. Her hands come up to cradle his face and tears spring to my eyes at the sight of them together, the similarities both in face and character between mother and son so striking to me at this moment. Part of me wants to be mad at Lynn -- wants to hate her for staying with Aaron through Logan’s abuse -- but somehow I can’t, because in the end, my heart puts the pieces of her story together to see how the years of psychological abuse trapped her too. That even the bravest and the strongest among us, can feel weak sometimes.</p>
<p>“When did you become such a strong, brilliant young man?” Lynn whispers.</p>
<p>“I’m your son, Mom. I get my strength and my wisdom all from you.” Logan’s hands clasp hers, tears welling in his eyes. “If it wasn’t for you, who knows how I would have turned out?”</p>
<p>Lynn leans towards him, her forehead touching his and Logan finally lets go, letting his tears fall. My vision begins to blur through my own tears and my mother comes closer and wraps her arm around my shoulders, squeezing me gently.</p>
<p>“I love you, Mom. I’ll keep you safe, I promise,” Logan murmurs, wrapping his arms around her and Lynn gasps as she sobs.</p>
<p>Wiping away my tears, I see Logan’s hands spread across her back, holding her steady as Lynn’s thin body shakes against his, now wracked with tears.</p>
<p>For now, the room is filled with the sound of crying from us all. And while I cry for Logan and the separation from his mother, inside, I’m also crying for myself. With all the secrets revealed, something feels different inside of me, like my eyes are now open to the ugliness of the world, and I don’t like it at all. And so, I mourn for myself and the person I once was. The last remnants of my naivety shedding with my tears.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Logan</strong>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>When I think Mom has had enough, I let her out of my embrace and instead, wrap my arm around her shoulders. “Come and sit down,” I tell her and she nods, a last little gasp escaping her as we move to the couch.</p>
<p>Gently, I lower her to sit and then slide in next to her. The champagne bottle is still on the coffee table and fuck, I could really use a drink right now. But it wasn’t the place or the time for that. </p>
<p>Veronica walks away from her mother to sit next to me on the couch, a soft smile pressing on her lips. Her eyes are bloodshot from crying, her tears staining her face and when I place my palm up on my knee, she takes my hand, moving it to her lap. Her touch electrifies me, giving me the strength I need to press on with what needs to be done, and I’m so fucking grateful for her presence right now that I’m at a loss to express it properly, so instead, I just give her a small nod and a smile. Her response is to place her hand on my back, spreading warmth through my body.</p>
<p>Turning my attention back to Mom, I slowly take a breath, gathering myself. “I trust Keith, Mom. He told me about how you knew each other during the war, and I truly don’t believe that he would let anything happen to you. In fact, I got the distinct impression that he doesn’t hold Aaron in very high regard.”</p>
<p>Mom snorts a laugh and wipes her eyes, a weak smile tugging at her lips. “That’s an understatement. Your father was jealous of the position Keith Mars received for his bravery during the war and he took great pride at trying to show Keith how well he was doing for himself, in Government circles.”</p>
<p>“Really?”</p>
<p>“Yes, but it was all a lie, and Keith knew it.” With a wave of her hand, mom laughed, sardonically. “Your father and I play our role in the propaganda machine, but Keith was given true power—power Aaron always wanted—because people saw that Keith could be trusted with power. I never saw or heard a word of Keith ever abusing that power to advance his own career or his family.” She paused and smiled at Lianne, who had taken the seat that Veronica vacated. “And when he became part of the <em>Orwell </em>project, he was rewarded with the family and home he always wanted.”</p>
<p>“Then why didn’t you volunteer to be part of the <em>Orwell</em> tests, Mom? Why did you stay with Aaron?”</p>
<p>“Because I was already pregnant with the child I lost,” Mom whispers. “And even though I was fighting for a new world, it’s hard to walk away from the values that are instilled in you. So, I married the father of my child, in the hope that he would eventually become the man I thought he could be. But he didn’t. And after the baby died, he became worse, because he saw very little use for me beyond our business arrangement with the studios.”</p>
<p>“But Trina and I…”</p>
<p>“Trina was your father’s idea. He thought that the government would look kindly on us if we took in an orphan, and we raised her as best we could, but there was always something wild in her that we couldn’t counter. There was also the neediness that came from the trauma of her abandonment when she was two-years-old and no amount of time or therapy helped. But she made a good life with her partners and for that I’m grateful.” Mom shrugs, her eyes fluttering as she sighs. “And you…well…I still wanted to try and carry a child to term, so I sought out doctors who helped me, and one night, I seduced your father, when the timing was right. Nine months later, you came along.”</p>
<p>I can’t help but cringe, and she just laughs at me, her hand dropping to my shoulder. “You, Logan, have been my miracle. My son. The one person who I have loved completely in the world and I know, I’ve made so many mistakes, but please, never think that I haven’t loved you.”</p>
<p>“But you still let him beat me,” I state in a monotone. “You still made me keep the secret.”</p>
<p>“That’s because I truly believed he would kill you, and me, Logan. And I would much rather see you alive and hurt, then dead in my arms.” Her lip quivers and she blinks back tears. “I know it’s hard to understand, but my generation, we’re the transitional one. We’re trying to operate in this new world, but the beliefs and values we had before the war are still in our bellies. Maybe that’s why I still, on some level, don’t believe that I’m safe, because before the war, I wouldn’t have been. Our trauma is so deep that it’s in our DNA.”</p>
<p>Tossing me a quick glance, Lynn forces a small smile before turning back to Logan. ”But you and Veronica, and someday your children, you’re learning how to cope in a way we never had, and eventually, you won’t have to deal with any of that. Don’t you see, one day, there will be the ultimate peace because your generation will be free from the past?”</p>
<p>“<em>Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it.</em> Winston Churchill,” I quote and Mom gives me a crooked grin. “I don’t think we’ll ever be free from the past, Mom, but I do think we can learn from it.”</p>
<p>She clutches my shoulder and places a kiss on my cheek. “And that’s why you’re going to be one of the people who keeps this world in check, Logan. I believe that with my whole heart.”</p>
<p>There’s a click at the door and I freeze, my eyes growing wide as the locks continue to click and Lianne stands, hurrying towards the hall. When Keith enters, I realize I was holding my breath, and I exhale loudly. He’s dressed in tactical gear from head to toe—kevlar and metal—and the sight sends a chill down my spine. If Keith wanted to intimidate Aaron at just the sight of him and his team, coming to arrest him, I’m pretty sure he succeeded.</p>
<p>“Keith?  Is it over?” Lianne asks, her hand resting on the shoulder of his deep blue uniform.</p>
<p>“It is for Aaron,” he murmurs, nodding to her. Removing his thick black helmet, he steps heavily towards the couch and I stand, giving Mom a little tug to help her to her feet. “He won’t be a problem for either of you anymore.”</p>
<p>Turning towards Keith, my mother sighs. “Do you really think that’s true, Keith?”</p>
<p>He gives her an incredulous frown, reaching out to gently rest on her bicep. “I do, Lynn, because I’m going to make sure of it. When we arrested him, he was spouting off about lawyers and people in the New Democracy to call, but in that jail cell, I reminded him that this wasn’t a time, like before the war, when his <em>celebrity </em>could help him. Now, he’s just another child abuser, awaiting his trial in a cold, dark prison.”</p>
<p>Veronica presses her palms to my back and I close my eyes, slowly exhaling all my worry away. When I open them, Keith is looking back at me with concern.</p>
<p>“Logan, the Judge wants to move quickly on this, so justice is finally served for you. For now, your video deposition will act as evidence and if they need, we will fly you out for the actual trial in a few weeks.” Reaching into a compartment on his vest, he pulls out a white business card and passes it to me. There is the symbol for the New Democracy on it with a name and phone number. “That is your court-appointed therapist. They’ll be expecting your call tomorrow to set up your first session while you’re in Neptune. He’ll set you up with another therapist in Chicago when you return to school.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, Keith.” I nod and slip the card in my back pocket, my elbow bumping gently into Veronica as I move.</p>
<p>Clasping his hands, he focuses back on my mother. “As for you, Lynn, I’m going to take you to a safe house for the next two days. We’ll get your deposition, and I can supervise you going home for a time…” His hand sweeps his bald head, in what I now think of as the <em>Keith Mars Tell</em> that he’s thinking. “I’m then going to escort you to the Canadian border. I’ve arranged for you to stay with an old mutual contact of ours—Clifford McCormack —in Winnipeg, for the next six months, until everything dies down with Aaron and I’m sure it’s safe for you to return home.”</p>
<p>“Cliff?” Mom gasps. “You’re sending me to stay with a smuggler who used to run a strip club?”</p>
<p>Keith laughs and shakes his head, tossing up his hands. “Hey, you remember…he used to also be a lawyer and he was a damn good smuggler during the war.”</p>
<p>“Because he smuggled things with the girls as mules!” Mom snaps.“Do you know where they shoved those messages to keep them safe?”</p>
<p>“Gross.” Veronica gags behind me and I turn to see her wrinkle her nose up at me.</p>
<p>“I promise, he will not make you run any messages to anyone in that way, Lynn.” Keith chuckles. “He’s still a lawyer up in Canada and has a nice place you can stay. He also has his ear to the ground and connections on both sides of the border for any possible problems that may arise.”</p>
<p>Crossing her arms, Mom shakes her head. “I can’t believe Cliff McCormack is going to be the man that helps me get away from Aaron. But if that’s what needs to happen, then that’s what needs to happen.”</p>
<p>Keith turns and walks to Lianne, taking her hand in his. “You going to be okay with Logan and Veronica here while I’m gone?”</p>
<p>“I’ll be fine,” Lianne kisses his cheek, smiling warmly at him. “You do what you need to do to keep everyone safe.”</p>
<p>He returns her kiss, this time on her lips, and just seeing the intimacy between them makes me blush. Maybe it’s the idea that after all these years, Keith and Lianne seem to be still working things out, one day at a time. Veronica must be thinking the same thing because her hand reaches for mine and our fingers twine together.</p>
<p>“And you…” Mom turns to face me again, eyes wide with concern. “You’ll be okay?”</p>
<p>“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine, Mom.”</p>
<p>Her fingers brush the hair from my forehead and she sighs, pressing her lips together as she takes a long look at me and my heart aches. I know that Keith will keep her safe, but the idea that she has to leave the country to be safe from Aaron still fills me with a sense of unease.</p>
<p>“I’m sure you will be, Logan.” Palms on my cheeks, she kisses my forehead, smiling as tears appear on her long lashes. “Just don’t go and have any babies while I’m gone, okay?”</p>
<p>Wincing, I shake my head, chuckling. “Well, you have at least five-years then, Mom. But please, come back sooner than that.”</p>
<p>Patting my cheek, she grins. “I will, my precious boy. I’ll come back. I promise.”</p>
<p>Choking back tears, I release Veronica’s hand and wrap my arms around my Mom for the last time in a while. Taking a moment, I breathe in the scent of her soft woodsy perfume. Cedar and sandalwood mixed with a hint of jasmine and I close my eyes, remembering the feeling of home with her.  Whenever Aaron was gone and it was just the two of us. Dancing in the kitchen. Reading old Hardy Boys books. Movies and popcorn on the couch.</p>
<p>“I love you, Mom.”</p>
<p>“I love you too, Logan.”</p>
<p>I squeeze her, tighter, suddenly unable to let her go. It’s not until I hear Keith clear his throat and Veronica begins to gently rub my back that I release her, letting her see my tears. When she brushes her hand across her face, mom’s makeup smears across her skin, but all I can think is that, when she returns, we’ll both be happier. Safer.</p>
<p>
  <em>Please protect her.</em>
</p>
<p>I swallow my silent prayer and she steps away, turning to Keith. “Let’s get this done.”</p>
<p>Placing his hand on her shoulder, Keith nods to her and then to me. “All right. Let’s get this done, Lynn.”</p>
<p>She doesn’t turn around as he leads her out and in the time it takes for the door to close behind her, I’ve gone numb. Cold. So, when Veronica’s hand skims my arm, it feels almost hot to the touch.</p>
<p>“It’s going to be okay, Logan.  Everything will be better now.”</p>
<p>I can see the lights of the vehicles outside light up, sit for a second, then bend and move, driving away and I follow them, turning to watch through the window until they fade into the night.</p>
<p>“I hope so, Veronica,” I mutter. “I really hope so.”</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. Chapter 33</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Logan</strong>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>The sun on my face feels amazing and even though it’s chilly on the back deck, it’s not nearly as cold as Chicago. We leave in two days and Veronica insisted that even though we weren’t venturing out into Neptune, that we should still get outside, which is why our homework is spread on the patio table and her feet are up on my lap while we read our textbooks this afternoon.</p>
<p>Keith finally came home last night from delivering Mom safely to the border, with news that C.H.A.D. cells had been quietly neutralized in several zones, including Chicago. When Veronica asked about Gory and Piz, her father would only state that they would no longer be a problem and his tone made us realize we shouldn’t ask much more. The bottom line was it was safe to return home. That’s what mattered to us right now.</p>
<p>As I read, I gently stroke the top of Veronica’s pink socks, and she purrs with contentment in her chair near me. Glancing over, her eyes flutter as she sighs, a soft smile on her lips. Yesterday, I talked to the court-ordered therapist and I was finally able to push past some of the crushing sadness and anxiety that came along with everything that happened. So much so that when I woke up this morning, I felt like the cloud that followed me all my life was finally gone. It also meant that with my feelings returning, I was horny as fuck and took great pleasure in sliding my hand into Veronica’s sleep shorts and stroking her clit until she awoke and came, hard and fast, holding her body as still as possible so the bed wouldn’t shake and biting her lip so she wouldn’t cry out. When she reciprocated, stroking my cock, she kept her lips on mine as I came in her hands, making sure I was as quiet as possible.</p>
<p>Since then, there have been the side glances at me. The subtle brush of her hand on my knee, under the table at breakfast and lunch. The whispers in my ear, while we watched the news, about how she wanted to join the “Mile High Club” on our flight back home. Once or twice, Lianne caught us kissing and just giggled, rolling her eyes. Even Keith shook his head and chuckled, muttering something about “young love” when he found Veronica tucked in the crook of my arm, her leg slung over mine, as we sat on the couch.</p>
<p>Now, she wrinkles her nose at me and mouths, “I love you”, as she blows me a kiss, and my heart wants to explode with joy. I know that this isn’t the end to my problems—not by a long shot—but for now, everything feels right.</p>
<p>The back door opens behind me and I try to turn, keeping Veronica’s feet on my lap.</p>
<p>“There’s someone here to see you both,” Keith states in a monotone. “But I don’t know if you want to see them.”</p>
<p>Veronica yanks her feet off my lap and stands, placing her book down on the table and I do the same, turning to face Keith.</p>
<p>“Who is it?” she asks, frowning with concern.</p>
<p>Scratching the stubble on his cheek, Keith sighs. “It’s Lilly. And Sabrina. They are in town for the weekend to help her folks with Duncan’s legal problems.”</p>
<p>Rubbing her wrists, Veronica’s eyes go wide in shock. “Is…is Duncan in Neptune? Was he transferred here?”</p>
<p>I move closer to her and wrap my arm around her waist. She’s wearing my hoodie and she thrusts her hands into the front pocket to hide her hands. The bruises are so faded that you can barely see them, but I’ve caught her still rubbing the spot, as if they were fresh on her skin.</p>
<p>“He wasn’t. He’s been transferred from Chicago through, for the time being, to a correctional facility in the Eastern Zone in protective custody.”</p>
<p>“Protective custody? For what?” I snap a little too harshly and Keith puts up his palm in defense.</p>
<p>“He’s in protective custody, Logan, because he’s the one who gave testimony about the bombings,” Keith calmly explains.  “He turned in evidence against Gory Sorokin and Stosh Piznarski, which means that he’s now a target for C.H.A.D. members currently incarcerated as part of the sting. “They’ve set him up in a prison where there are no members that can get to him, and where, once he has his day in court, he will probably serve out his sentence for your assault.”</p>
<p>“And the bombings?  What about the bombings?” Veronica asks.</p>
<p>Keith shrugs. “For that, he’ll have some form of punishment, but it will not be as severe as Sorokin and Piznarski since they’re the ones who executed the bombing. Duncan’s testimony has kept him out of the Radiation Zone, but it seems as though he will be spending a good deal of his life behind bars in prison.”</p>
<p>“So, Lilly wants to talk to us about what happened?” she continues.</p>
<p>“She does.” Keith nods. “They are in the living room, but I can tell them to leave, if you don’t want to deal with them.”</p>
<p>She glances up at me with sad eyes and I shrug. “It’s up to you, Veronica. She’s your best friend. Do you want to talk to her?”</p>
<p>Veronica bites her lips, pausing in thought. This could be a good visit, or it could be very bad. There was no way Lilly was happy about her brother’s incarceration, but whether she blamed Veronica and I for his fall into madness is my main concern. Because after everything Veronica’s been through with Duncan, I doubt a confrontation would help her cope with the attack.</p>
<p>“Okay,” she finally says and reaches for my hand. “You’ll come with me, right?”</p>
<p>“Absolutely.” Bending, I kiss her forehead and she forces a smile.</p>
<p>“I’m sure it will be fine, Veronica,” Keith says, his hand on the door knob. “I think Lilly is just sad about her brother’s fate, that’s all.”</p>
<p>Veronica nods and he opens the door, letting us go through. The smell of dinner cooking momentarily distracts me as we walk past Lianne, chopping vegetables at the counter for something amazing, and she gives me a tight smile as we pass. Walking into the living room, we spy Lilly and Sabrina, standing across the room, the picture from our union ceremony dinner in their hands. Lilly has her long blond hair up in a chic bun, a rosy blush painting her white skin. She’s wearing black slacks and a red blouse and she looks so much more mature than I remember from the last time I saw her, more than a year ago, that it takes my brain a second to comprehend that it is, in fact, the same girl I slept with. Sabrina is taller than her, her skin a mahogany contrast to Lilly’s paleness. Her black curly hair is slicked back into a neat bun, but she’s dressed a bit more casually, in tight black jeans and a soft yellow sweater. When they see us, they put down the frame, and Sabrina smiles broadly at us.</p>
<p>“See, Lilly. I told you they would want to see you.”</p>
<p>Lilly’s eyes go wide as she blinks back tears, then she walks toward Veronica. Veronica starts toward her and they meet in the middle of the room, pulling each other into a deep embrace.</p>
<p>“I’m so sorry, Vee! I’m sorry for everything!”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Lilly! I’m sorry I couldn’t save him!”</p>
<p>The two continue to hug, murmuring in low tones to each other, as Sabrina walks around the coffee table and comes to stand next to me. In her heels, she’s my height and I smile cordially at her.</p>
<p>“Hey, Sabrina.”</p>
<p>“Hey, Logan. How you doing?”</p>
<p>“Well, I didn’t die in an explosion, so I’m going to say, pretty good. How are you doing?”</p>
<p>“That is a pretty good thing.” She pats my back, shaking her head as she chuckles. “Wish we were here under better circumstances, but still not doing too bad.”</p>
<p>Veronica and Lilly are still hugging in the middle of the room and I can see Lilly blinking back tears over Veronica’s shoulder. Slowly, they untangle from their embrace and wipe their eyes.</p>
<p>“I love my brother, but he’s a moron. Always has been, always will be,” Lilly states. Taking Veronica’s hands, she clutches them to her breast. “I’m so sorry I ever asked you to keep an eye on him.”</p>
<p>“Lilly, we were all friends. Of course I would try and look out for him. There was no way I ever in a million years thought that he would do any of this.” She glances back at me for a moment before returning her attention to Lilly. “I mean, I knew he was upset about Logan and I being partnered, but I thought he would eventually get over it.”</p>
<p>“My brother was never very good at getting over things. It’s one of the reasons why Mom coddled him so much. From the moment he was born, she doted on him. If Duncan wanted something, Mom moved heaven and earth to get it for him. We ate the meals he liked, watched the movies he wanted…it was always about him.” Rolling her eyes, Lilly sighs. “Thank God I had two dads or I would have never had any attention.”</p>
<p>I can’t help my smirk but keep my thoughts to myself. Lilly needing attention tracked big-time. As one of  her former lovers, I could attest to it.</p>
<p>“Still needs attention. But there’s only one of me,” Sabrina mutters beside me and I cover my mouth with my fist, trying to hold back a guffaw.</p>
<p>“You, stop it.” Lilly wags her finger at her partner, her eyes narrowing, even as a coy smile spreads on her red lips. “The counsellor said I’m doing better at not making it all about me.”</p>
<p>“So then, back to Duncan…” Sabrina flips her long fingers over and over in the air, trying to speed things up.</p>
<p>“Right! As I was saying…” Lilly spins her attention back to Veronica, gripping her shoulders. “Duncan was always going to be messed up and absolutely none of this is your fault. It’s my mom’s.”</p>
<p>“Lilly!” Sabrina lets out an exasperated sigh. “I love you, but baby, please stick to the topic.”</p>
<p>“I am!” Lilly snaps. “Look, Veronica, I just really wanted to come here and tell you that everything between us is fine. I know that you and Logan did your best to try and help Duncan. But what he did to you both…I may never forgive myself for, because I should have seen it. He was always a violent, vicious little brother, but I thought that was just how little brothers were supposed to act. I just figured he would grow out of it, but obviously he didn’t.”</p>
<p>“What makes you say that, Lil?” Veronica asks, frowning with concern at our friend. “Was there something that he did to you?”</p>
<p>Dropping her grip on Veronica, Lilly crosses her arms over her chest, her shoulders hunching as if protecting herself from her memories.</p>
<p>“I don’t know. It was just a lot of little things he did as a kid. Like, he used to bite me when he was a baby and laugh.  Laugh! And Mom just let him do it, so it wasn’t until Pops stepped in and took away his toy cars that he finally stopped.” Lilly shifts from foot to foot, looking visibly uncomfortable. “But like, Mom got him a foam dart gun for Christmas one year, and he used to sit in his bedroom window and shoot birds out of the trees in our backyard and laugh when our cat, Snickers, would catch them on the ground and tear them apart. Or once, he came into my bedroom and pulled all the heads off my dolls and buried them in the yard and my mom wrote it off as a joke, even though I cried for days. Dad and Pops made him dig them all up, and they fixed all of them, and took away Duncan’s bike for the summer.”</p>
<p>“Did they ever send Duncan to a counsellor?” Veronica shoves her hands in her hoodie pocket again, glancing to me, then back to Lilly.</p>
<p>“He went a couple of times that I remember, but it was for little things, like his ongoing tantrums. It was never for the things he did to me, because everyone wrote it off as just <em>Duncan.</em>”</p>
<p>“Nature versus nurture,” I mumble.</p>
<p>“Yep,” Sabrina concurs beside me.</p>
<p>“But that’s why I worried about him.” Lilly gasps in frustration, glancing at me and Sabrina. “I mean, he’s my brother, and I’m supposed to love him, but I also knew how he was when my mother and fathers weren’t looking. And I was afraid for him because he was so…mean…but my mom taught him how to hide it so well, that I was worried about what he would get himself into.” Turning back to Veronica, she sighs. “But I never in a million years thought he would hurt you, Veronica, because he said he loved you. I thought you would be safe. I thought you and Logan would both be safe. I thought the only person he would hurt would be himself. But I was wrong and I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>Shaking her head, Veronica sighs. “Lilly, you couldn’t have known. I’m glad you told me about everything because he hid that side of himself so well that neither Logan nor I saw it until it was too late. And I’m just sad that it all played out this way.”</p>
<p>Lilly looked to her and batted her lashes, a slow grin spreading across her face. “So you still love me?”</p>
<p>“I will always love you, Lilly.” Veronica opens her arms and wraps Lilly in a giant hug, kissing her cheek. “Even if you kept the secret of sleeping with Logan from me for, like, ever.”</p>
<p>My stomach tightens for a moment before Veronica’s giggle fills the room and she releases Lilly, grinning at me.</p>
<p>“Oh fuck, not again…” I mutter, covering my face with my palms. “I thought we were done with that conversation!”</p>
<p>“I had to,” Veronica coos, striding over to me.</p>
<p>I drop my hands from my face in time to see her stop in front of me, rising on her tiptoes to give me a peck on the lips. Wrapping my arms around her, I sigh, kissing the top of her head.</p>
<p>“No, you really didn’t.”</p>
<p>“You should be thanking me…” Lilly laughs, strutting over to Sabrina. “I taught him everything he <em>knows</em>.”</p>
<p>Everyone starts laughing, except for me. “I would like to say….” I protest over the noise. “…that I had natural talents and abilities before Lilly, thank you very much.”</p>
<p>Sabrina elbows me as Lilly comes around next to her. “Sure you did, Logan.” Lilly stops beside her and the women wrap their arms around each other.</p>
<p>“I give up,” I sigh, rolling my eyes, and the women laugh louder.</p>
<p>“Well, what are we all laughing about?” Keith’s voice behind me sends a shiver down my spine and I stiffen. <em>Please God, don’t let him have heard this conversation.</em></p>
<p>“Nothing!” we all say in unison, setting off another round of laughter.</p>
<p>I turn toward Keith, and Veronica slips around too, tucking herself under my arm. Keith nods at us all and rubs his hands together with anticipation.</p>
<p>“I’m glad to see everyone so happy. Does this mean that if I ask Lilly and Sabrina to stay for dinner, they will accept?  Lianne has a roast in the oven and it’s more than enough food for us all.”</p>
<p>Sabrina and Lilly exchange glances and smile. “Thank you, Mr. Mars,” Sabrina says. “We would love to stay for dinner.”</p>
<p>“Fine then. I’ll go and set a couple extra places at the table.” Keith gives a little flourish of his hand as he backs out of the room, towards the kitchen.</p>
<p>Left alone again, the four of us look between each other. This is the first time we’ve all been together as partners and there’s a certain comfort to seeing everyone happy, despite everything that’s happened.</p>
<p>“Why don’t we have a seat and catch up,” I suggest, jerking my head towards the couch. “Don’t know when we’ll get to talk like this again, once we’re all back at college.”</p>
<p>Lilly glances up at Sabrina, her big blue eyes sparkling as she looks at her partner. It’s different from the way she looked at me, once upon a time, or the way she looks at Veronica. When Lilly looks at Sabrina, it’s as if you can see the love radiating between them, and it makes me happy to witness.</p>
<p>“Sure,” Lilly says. “Let’s talk.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Veronica</strong>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>The clock says 2:30 a.m. but I’m not the least bit tired. Maybe it was all the coffee. Maybe it was the excitement of having the chance to see Lilly and Sabrina again. Or maybe it’s everything that has happened in the past few days just finally catching up to my brain. Logan fell asleep in an instant tonight, which doesn’t surprise me. I feel like he has a lifetime of bad sleep to catch up on. His nightmares seem to have subsided for now, but whether that continues once we get home or not, is yet to be seen.</p>
<p>I crawled from his arms at around midnight and took up residence on the couch, the warm glow from the television illuminating the room. It was kind of nice to just sit here, sprawled under a big, crocheted blanket in my sleep shorts and a t-shirt, flipping channels aimlessly in the dark. Soothing. Dad told me there were once hundreds of channels to choose from and joked that there was still never anything ‘good’ on.  Now, we have ten, and two of them are news.  Everything on our airways is approved by the government and I wonder what’s going to happen to those movies and television shows that were being produced by Lynn and Aaron, now that he’s going to prison.  I suspect that somehow, it will all still manage to move on.</p>
<p>The bedroom door creaks open and Logan appears in the dark hallway, in black boxer-briefs and a grey t-shirt, rubbing his eyes.</p>
<p>“Hey. Whatcha doing out here?”</p>
<p>“Couldn’t sleep.” I sigh. “Didn’t want to wake you up so I came out here.”</p>
<p>Sauntering over to me, he leans over and I raise my head to him, meeting in the middle for a soft kiss. As he walks past me, I pull my legs off the other side of the couch to make room for him. My body bounces when he flops onto the cushions. Lifting the end of the blanket, he drapes it over his bare legs.</p>
<p>“When I realized my arm wasn’t numb from your head on it, I woke up.” Logan chuckles, gathering my cold feet up onto his warm lap. “You know, I could have done something to <em>help</em> you sleep.”</p>
<p>“Thanks for the offer.” I giggle, shaking my head. “I wasn’t really feeling up to sex in any way, shape or form.”</p>
<p>“What? Shocking,” he teases. “Why not? What’s going on in that big brain of yours.”</p>
<p>“Everything. Everything is going on in there.”</p>
<p>“So, tell me.  Tell me everything.”</p>
<p>My eyes dart to the stairs, a mental check on my parents before I start talking. Dad was scheduled to work, which meant he would be up early. I wanted to be in bed at least by the time he came downstairs. Pointing the remote at the TV, I mute the sound, focusing my attention on Logan.</p>
<p>“Where should I even start?”</p>
<p>“Start wherever you want. I’m here to listen.”</p>
<p>I run my hands through my hair and sigh, trying to gather my thoughts. “I think my brain is overwhelmed right now and it’s like it’s leaking through my veins.”</p>
<p>“What is? The feeling of being overwhelmed?”</p>
<p>“Yes. That. But everything. Even though everything’s taken care of in the eyes of the law, I just have this feeling of uneasiness from everything that’s happened.”</p>
<p>“So, Duncan…and Gory…”</p>
<p>“…and my mom, and your dad, and your mom…and <em>my dad</em> for that matter….” Shaking my head, I let out a groan of discontent. “I feel like I’m in the eye of this massive storm that is swirling around both of us. We’ve done nothing to attract the storm, but it keeps swiping at us and then retreating and it’s filled me with this deep sense of dread and unease that I just can’t shake.”</p>
<p>“That makes complete sense, Veronica.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, but I was hoping when we came back here, to Neptune, and dealt with our problems, that it would go away, but it hasn’t subsided. At all. In fact, it feels like it’s gotten worse.”</p>
<p>“I know how that feels, Veronica. I understand, and frankly, I know that there’s nothing I can say that will get rid of it in an instant, but it will begin to pass, in time. Going home—back to <em>our </em>home—will help. Getting on with our routine will help. Starting to talk to a counsellor on a regular basis will help too.”</p>
<p>“See, and that’s part of it…” I bite my bottom lip, pausing to properly articulate my feelings. “Logan, I’m worried about talking to a counsellor now, after what my father said about what the government knows about us, and what it doesn’t know.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“I mean, doesn’t it weird you out to know that there are files about us—about every little detail of who we are—that are in the government’s possession? I mean, my dad just proved to us that he has the clout to get his hands on one of those files, but what if there are others that can do that? What if the New Democracy falls at some point, and all that information gets into the hands of the wrong people? I mean, the counsellors must take notes on us when we talk to them. How much is collected and kept?”</p>
<p>“Veronica, I don’t think the government is out to get us.”</p>
<p>“Maybe not <em>this</em> government, but what if it changes?  Logan, I can’t stop thinking about what would happen if all of this information and knowledge was used against us, as citizens. That’s what’s been occupying my brain. This overwhelming feeling of being naked in the eyes of the bureaucracy. Of them knowing everything about me and it’s scaring me for the future.”</p>
<p>“I…I never really thought about it that way.”</p>
<p>“So, you agree with me then?”</p>
<p>“I do, yes, but Veronica, that’s why I think people like us have been chosen, to care for this type of information. Chosen to be the keepers of the democracy so the people in power are always keeping the best interest of the citizens who elected them safe.”  Logan pauses, scratching at the stubble on his cheek, looking off into the darkness of the room. “After the fall of the old regime in the war, people were independently elected to the New Democracy. They took an oath to the people they represented, not to any parties or regions, but to the people themselves. And I do believe that you and I will honour that same oath in our careers and help to hold others accountable.” He chuckles. “I mean, just look what we’ve done with C.H.A.D. and Gory and Piz and Duncan. We held them accountable for their actions. And we aren’t even working yet! We’re still learning.”</p>
<p>Crossing my arms, I shift against the arm of the couch. He did have a point about everything. But I still feel uneasy.</p>
<p>“That’s the other thing, Logan. I can’t shake this feeling…this feeling of being <em>stupid</em>.”</p>
<p>“Veronica, you are not stupid.”</p>
<p>“But I feel that way!  I feel like I should have known better…that I should have seen what was happening with Duncan sooner. And maybe if I had, then we could have saved some of the people who died in the explosion.  If we acted sooner and thought about putting Gory away, even if Duncan went to prison as an accessory, then people wouldn’t have died.”</p>
<p>“You followed your heart, Veronica. Duncan was our friend and you followed your loyalty and love for your friend. Up until we left for college, there was nothing that Duncan had done that would have made you suspect he wasn’t above board about everything. We were all duped by his behavior, not just you.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Logan. I know you’re hurting about this too.”</p>
<p>“I am, but my mind has been a little too preoccupied by Aaron and Mom to really think about it.” He shrugs and I know that he’s trying to put his sadness to the side, but it’s still there, ever present, even when he’s smiling.</p>
<p>“Yeah. I know you have.” Tossing him a wry grin, I shrug back. “I’ve elected to compartmentalize my problems with my mom for the moment to think about everything else.”</p>
<p>“See, so we’re both obsessing, just about different things.”</p>
<p>“I guess we are.”</p>
<p>“I know the cure for that…” Rising, Logan offers me his hand, smiling. “Come with me.”</p>
<p>Cringing from his hand, I wriggle under the blankets. “Logan…I still don’t feel like sex.”</p>
<p>Laughing, he shakes his head at me. “It’s not about that.  Just come with me and get dressed.”</p>
<p>“Okay. That’s exactly the opposite of what I thought you would say.” I smirk and turn off the television.</p>
<p>Taking his hand, he pulls me to my feet and gives me a quick kiss on the tip of my nose. Silently, we sneak back to our room and close the door.</p>
<p>“Get dressed in dark clothes, preferably warm. Don’t forget your coat,” he whispers and pulls his black jeans off the floor, stepping quickly into them.</p>
<p>“Wait? What? Why?”</p>
<p>“We’re going out.”</p>
<p>It’s a devilish grin he throws at me, filled with boyish mischief and for a second, I think that smile could lead me straight into hell. But then my wits come back to me and I shake my head.</p>
<p>“Logan. We can’t go out. Neptune’s curfew is 1:00 a.m. and it’s well past that.”</p>
<p>Pulling his hoodie over his t-shirt, he tosses me a wink and my stomach does a little flip. “You really didn’t break any rules when you were a teenager, did you?”</p>
<p>“Um, no. Why? What rule are you planning on breaking?”</p>
<p>Reaching into the back of the closet, Logan retrieves the bottle of champagne his mother left with us. Dumping the contents of his carryon onto the ground, he stuffs the bottle in and grabs a thin blanket from the top shelf of the closet and folds it in too.</p>
<p>“Curfew. I used to sneak out of the house to see Lilly and would come back well after dark, but I actually honed my skills by running away from Aaron when I was younger. If I heard him in a rage, I would jump out my window and scramble into the darkness. He couldn’t follow me because he would get caught, but I was smaller and could hide. Gave him time to cool off and I escaped a beating...until I got home, that is.”</p>
<p>I step over to him and cup his face with my hands, kissing him tenderly. When we part, he gives me a wobbly smile.</p>
<p>“Come on, Veronica. Get dressed. Let me show you what the world is like when it stops moving.”</p>
<p>Again, he offers his hand and I take it, squeezing tightly.</p>
<p>“Okay,” I whisper. “Show me.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. Chapter 34</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Logan</strong>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>I lead her through the streets in silence, hopping from dark corner to dark corner, block by block, her gloved hand in mine.  On the streets with houses, it’s easy—the night patrols only pass along every 30 minutes. Once we get to the commercial areas, we have to be a little more careful as there are more lights and fewer places to hide, so I quicken our pace. When we get so close to the beach that we can hear the soft sound of the surf, I press her against the side of a building, into the shadows. Our dark hoods are up and I press my body against hers, my nose brushing hers as I whisper instructions.</p>
<p>“We need to wait for the Security van to pass. It has a spotlight that scans the beach.”</p>
<p>Eyes wide, she nods, her breathing ragged from the sprint we just did from the last dark corner. I wrap my arms around her and pull her close enough to feel her rapid heartbeat next to mine through the compressed loft of our jackets.</p>
<p>“Breaking the rules is kind of exciting, isn’t it?” I wink and her cheeks grow redder.</p>
<p>“It kind of is.”</p>
<p>I want to kiss her, but I know I’ll get completely swept up in it and I have to have my wits about me. Instead, I adjust my grip under her arms and lift her off her feet in a giant hug, my face pressing to the softness of her hood-covered neck. For a second, I wish that we had been partnered sooner. I wish we had known. Maybe at sixteen or seventeen, when life was a little easier, and we could have done this together. All those nights I wandered these streets alone, lost, hiding from Aaron or running from Lilly. This time, I’m not going away from something. Instead, I’m running to a place. With Veronica by my side. And it’s exhilarating.</p>
<p>Hearing the tires on the empty street, I set her down between me and the wall and raise my arm near her head to shield her eyes from the impending lights as we wait for the van. Sure enough, the van comes into our range and passes us, their bright spotlight shining across the wide road to the beach. The beam flashes across the sand and hits the water at the end, spreading light in every direction as it slowly drags along the shoreline. If they were to shine it the other way, towards the shops, we would be seen, but they’re not looking for us. Truth be told, they’re not looking for anything but teens, out for a night of partying. But everyone has packed up for the night, in time for curfew. When the punishment was a mandatory “Legal Statutes for Youth” class, it was surprising how many of us chose to just go home instead of risk dying of boredom in a Government education facility.</p>
<p>Shifting along the brick wall, I glance down the street to see the van disappear around the turn and I grab Veronica’s hand.</p>
<p>“Come on.  We gotta run.”</p>
<p>Taking off across the middle of the street, we head for the sand, and veer left, backtracking slightly. It’s hard to run in our sneakers in the sand and our heavy winter coats are not helping.  I can hear Veronica huffing behind me and I pull her on.  But then, in the darkness, I see it and she must too because she picks up the pace, and soon enough, we’re at the old wooden Lifeguard station, scrambling up the ramp.  The large white shack offers enough cover that the vans can’t see us from the road, and I slip down, sitting on the deck, my back pressed to the walls, panting from exertion.  Veronica drops down beside me and gasps, shivering as her warm body comes to a halt in the cool, crisp night air.</p>
<p>“We still have to be quiet, because our voices can carry,” I say, pulling my duffle bag to my lap.</p>
<p>Unzipping it, I pull out a blanket and toss it to her. As she pulls the blanket over her legs, I grab the bottle of champagne, quickly unwrapping the foil and cage and shove them back in the bag.  Leaning towards the spindles of the short deck, I angle the champagne bottle towards the water and twist the cork, letting it fly out of my hands towards the sand as a loud pop echoes in the darkness.  The shaken champagne gushes over the edge into the sand and Veronica squeals next to me. I let the bubbles drain for a second before righting the bottle, making sure to keep some of it for us.  Raising it to try and catch the light from the street behind us, I see that I’ve left about half of the bottle for us, which is good. We need to have our senses for the run back home later.</p>
<p>Wrapping my lips around the bottle, I take a swig, the bubbles rising in my nose and I release it, nearly spitting out the alcohol as I do.  Veronica takes the bottle from me with a giggle.</p>
<p>“You okay?” she whispers.</p>
<p>I give her a thumbs up and swallow, chuckling and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “Yeah. Have some.”</p>
<p>Her eyes sparkling with mischief, she raises the bottle to her lips and grins. “Just like our union night.”</p>
<p>“That seems like a lifetime ago.”</p>
<p>Removing my hood, I lean against the shack, pulling part of the blanket over my legs and sigh with contentment as she snuggles closer.</p>
<p>“It does,” she murmurs and hands back the bottle.</p>
<p>For a time, we sit in the silence of the night, passing the bottle between us. The waves crash on the shore, just yards away, and I inhale the briny scent of the ocean, stretched out before us into the darkness.</p>
<p>“I can see why you would come here. It’s so peaceful.”</p>
<p>Exhaling slowly, I fix my eyes on the non-existent horizon, lost in the night. Above us, a galaxy of stars have opened and they dance for us through the atmosphere.</p>
<p>“I used to come out here and revel in how small I felt surrounded by the vastness of it all.” Shifting slightly, I look up at the universe above me and warmth spreads through my heart. “There’s something soothing about the thought that no matter what has happened in this world, there are still stars in the sky, the tide still comes in and out, the sun rises and sets. Sometimes, when my life seemed out of control, I would hide here and just reset myself. I don’t know, but somehow, all the problems would just fall away, for a little while at least, and I would go home and just feel better in my soul.”</p>
<p>Veronica’s cold hand takes mine and I look down at her, smiling back at me. Her hair is disheveled from her hood and sweat from our run and her cheeks are bright pink from the champagne and I am wholly and completely in love.</p>
<p>“I’m glad you have this. It’s beautiful. Thank you for sharing it with me.”</p>
<p>I take the bottle from her and have another sip as she shuffles closer to me and I raise my arm, tucking her to my side and I feel her relax against me.</p>
<p>“One of the veterans I used to volunteer with was on the front lines, in the Eastern zone. Sargent Tyrell Douglas used to be with the old ‘police’, but he left when he was ordered to fire on a group of homeless people. Just went AWOL with a bunch of other men and women.   He said when the war was over, he limped back to California to find it decimated. Not as bad off as the bomb zones, of course, but Los Angeles was still burning and the New Democracy was still trying to hold order. His wife had been taken by the old regime early on for her political activism, and his children were left with his mother. When he came back, his children were fine, but he found out his wife had been killed in a detention center.”</p>
<p>“Oh my God…” Veronica murmurs, hugging me closer.</p>
<p>“He said that he had a crisis of faith, and wondered why he had even bothered to fight, because he had been fighting for her. And so he wandered through the streets and ended up at the ocean. He said it was a comfort to him that no matter what was happening in the world, that there were some absolutes in life that were good and pure. The waxing and waning moon. The push and pull of the tide. The planets and stars above us.”</p>
<p>Resting her head on my shoulder, Veronica wraps her arms around my bicep and gives me a tight squeeze. “Did he move on?  Did he find love again?”</p>
<p>“He didn’t,” I confess. “But that’s because he didn’t want it. He rejected the offer of an Orwell match because he said he still had the memory of finding love the ‘old fashioned’ way and he didn’t want to lose that. He had the love of his children and his mother, and that was enough to sustain him.”</p>
<p>Veronica scoots away from the wall, sitting closer to the edge so I can see her face. Frowning as she turns her attention on me. “So, he didn’t think the outcomes after the war made things better?”</p>
<p>“He did. But he saw things very differently from me.” Taking the final drink from the bottle, I set it aside to focus on Veronica, the alcohol now tickling my brain. “I once got into a debate with him about <em>freedom</em>. And I was a real asshole…I was mad about confessing to my doctor that Lilly and I were having sex and he forced me to do an STI test. Like, really, I was being a jerk.” I shake my head and chuckle at the stupidity of the memory. “And so I complained to him about not having any <em>freedom</em> in this world and Tyrell just pointed his finger at me at me and said ‘But are you oppressed, boy?’” I shake my head, pursing my lips. “And I, again like an idiot, say, why yes, I’m being oppressed. That’s when he let me have it.”</p>
<p>I start to laugh ironically at the memory of my own naivety. Veronica frowns as she listens, but stays quiet to my slightly drunken rant.</p>
<p>“Tyrell told me that before the war, people were murdered for speaking their minds. They died because they couldn’t afford the medications they needed. People grinding their lives away in jobs to serve the wealthy while still unable to put food on their plates and a roof over their heads. Freedom was an illusion, handed to people back then in the form of goods and services.  Sure, you could buy anything you wanted with enough money, but people were morally bankrupt, turning a blind eye to people dying, in trade for a summer home by the beach, or another car, or whatever it was that people believed they <em>needed</em> at that time.”</p>
<p>Taking a sharp breath, I look up to the heavens and hope that Tyrell is shaking his crooked finger at me once more as I speak.</p>
<p>“He said that true freedom comes when we release ourselves from want for more than our neighbour has, when we want to work together, as a society, so everyone has the same advantages.” I drop my eyes to Veronica again and smile. “Sure, we trade some choices for it, but in the end, we all end up better for it. And I guess, that’s how I started to see things. Do I get to choose my career? No, but I’ve traded years of searching for it. Do I get to choose my house? No, but I get to fill it with the family and friends that I love.” Reaching for her, I cup her cheek and her eyes flutter, a soft smile crossing her lips. “Do I get to choose my partner? No, but that doesn’t mean that I haven’t put in the same effort I would have spent finding you as I do committing to you and our lives together, each and every day. And frankly, right now, I would trade everything else I have, just to spend the rest of my life with you, Veronica, because you and our life we’re building is still better than anything I ever imagined.”</p>
<p>Tears appear on her lashes and when she blinks, they fall down her rosy cheeks. Leaning into my palm, her hand cups mine and she sighs.</p>
<p>“But do you think the world has changed, Logan?  Do you truly believe the world has changed, or is your mother right? Has it all just been buried underground where it lurks, waiting for its time to come out and destroy everything?” She pauses, taking a shaky breath. “Because I have to tell you, I feel like in the last few months, every bit of my naivety has been stripped from me and it’s as if I’m seeing the world for the first time, naked and barren. And it scares me, for not only your future and mine, but also for everyone else. The thought that everything that was fought against in the war still exists, but quieter, hiding, waiting for its moment to rise again.”</p>
<p>I lean forward, feeling my jackass grin spread across my face as I get closer to her. “So then, Veronica, what are we going to do about it?”</p>
<p>She jerks her head back, incredulous, her eyes narrowing for a fight and it’s exactly the reaction I’d hoped for.</p>
<p>“What do you mean by that?” she hisses.</p>
<p>“You know what I mean. You and I are eventually going to be two people who are able to help change the system from within. I know what I want to change—how I want to help this world.  The question is, how are you going to use your knowledge and your power?”</p>
<p>Veronica pulls her shoulders square, crossing her arms across her chest and my belly flips at the sight of the fire alight in her eyes once more.</p>
<p>“I’m going to make sure the laws that put away people like Duncan are upheld so justice is served for those victims of violent offenders,” she starts, wavering a bit and I know the alcohol must be getting to her. “I’m going to make sure the decisions I make see all sides and are just and fair. I’ll uphold equality and push back against racists like Gory. I’ll help to make things safer and better, not just for us but for everyone.”</p>
<p>Leaning back, I stretch my legs out across the deck, cross my arms and smile. “I believe you will, Veronica. And everything we just went through, all of those experiences will help you with those decisions. Like your mom said, every generation leaves more of the baggage of the past behind, and we should learn from that, but we don’t need to repeat it.”</p>
<p>Arching her eyebrow at me, a coy smile spreads on her face. “You’re pretty smart, Echolls. I’m glad you’re with me in this, because I’d sure as hell hate to be against you.”</p>
<p>Bending towards her, I grab her around the waist and pull her onto my lap as she lets out a sharp scream. Clapping her hand over her mouth, she muffles her laugh, but I quickly take her fingers away, replacing them with my lips pressing to hers. Her laugh morphs into a moan against my mouth. Wrapping her in my arms, I close my eyes, rocking us slightly when she opens her mouth and deepens our kiss. Heat sweeps across my skin and through my belly and I’m just so goddamn happy, out here on edge of the universe, that I could cry. As if sensing it, she clutches my cheeks, pulling away from my lips, glassy eyes connecting with mine.</p>
<p>“I love you, Logan. And right now, I don’t care how it happened, by destiny or by machine. I love you and I’m so glad that we’re together on this journey.”</p>
<p>And I can’t.  I can’t hold back my tears of happiness as they drop onto her fingers, still cradling my face.</p>
<p>“I love you, Veronica. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I will spend every day making sure I don’t take you or your love for granted.”</p>
<p>“I know, Logan.” She places a soft kiss on my lips, punctuating her words. “I know.”</p>
<p>With all the words said, Veronica lets her next kiss linger and my heart soars. Gently, sweeping our lips back and forth, nipping, playing, taking our time like we did when we started this path together. In my head, I know we should start heading back soon, but in my heart, I want to stay here with her until the warmth of the sun returns.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Veronica</strong>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>The giddiness from the alcohol has worn off, but the endorphins from running towards home are still shaking my body when we arrive at the bottom of the porch steps. Fishing around in my pocket, I find my keys and hold them up, pressing my finger to my lips to keep Logan quiet and he nods. Together, we slowly creep up the old wooden steps and pause at the door. I gingerly  insert the key into the lock and turn it with agonizing patience, flinching at the clicking sound of it opening. Turning the knob, I rise on my toes and gently push open the door, tip-toeing into the darkness. Logan follows close and closes the door behind us, taking the same time to lock it behind us as I took to open it.</p>
<p>
  <em>We did it. We didn’t get caught.</em>
</p>
<p>Logan catches me around my waist from behind and he pulls down my hood, nuzzling down past my jacket to kiss my neck and I giggle softly, trying to keep quiet. Spinning in his arms, my lips find his, cold and chapped from the cool night air and I close my eyes, sinking into the warmth of him.  When I inhale, I catch the scent of the ocean and sand and….coffee?</p>
<p>“Ahem.”</p>
<p>I jump back from Logan’s arms and turn to see Dad, standing in the darkened doorway to the kitchen in his everyday uniform, a cup of coffee in his hands.</p>
<p>“Was wondering whether you kids would come back by choice or in a security van.” He smirks and my cheeks heat up from embarrassment.</p>
<p>“How did you know?”</p>
<p>Arching his eyebrow, Dad raises his mug in toast to us before taking another slow sip and I want to roll my eyes at the detective-movie dramatics he’s putting on.</p>
<p>“Well, I thought I heard the front door open and close, and low and behold, when I came downstairs, your shoes were missing and your keys were gone from the hook.” He points past us to the key holder on the wall and I shake my head, chuckling at his powers of deduction.  “So then, I took a chance and knocked on your bedroom door and was not surprised to find it unlocked and the bed empty.”</p>
<p>“So you’ve been up waiting for us this whole time?”</p>
<p>“Lord, no,” he laughs. “I went back to bed. But you’ve been gone so long, you get to see me off to work.”</p>
<p>I unzip my jacket and walk over to him, placing a soft kiss on his cheek and he smiles. “You better run a check on your people doing street sweeps—they may be going soft.”</p>
<p>When I retreat, toeing off my shoes on the mat, Dad laughs again and shakes his head. “I may have to send them for retraining. Thanks for throwing them a spot check.”</p>
<p>“Anytime.” Logan grins as he pulls off his shoes and my dad nearly spits out his coffee at the sheer jackass bravado.</p>
<p>Taking Logan’s hand, I tug him towards the bedroom. “Stay safe, Dad. We’re off to bed.  Again.”</p>
<p>“Sleep well!” Dad calls out as we retreat quickly through the living room and back to our sanctuary.</p>
<p>Giggling, I push the door open, and we stumble in, laughing. Logan stops and locks the door, tugging the knob to make sure it’s secure. The sun is beginning to peek through the blinds, casting little tendrils of light through the gaps and I turn, keeping my focus on Logan. In the trailing laughter between us, he grins at me and I bite my lip, feeling a mischievous tickle in my belly.  Pulling off my jacket, I toss it on the bed and arch my eyebrow at him. When my sweater and t-shirt follow, he licks his lips before doing the same, tossing his jacket and hoodie on top of mine.</p>
<p>I press my finger to my lips, conspiratorially, unable to keep the sly grin from my face. He mimics me as he crosses the room, stopping to tower over me. Dropping to my knees, I quickly undo the buckle of his pants, only the subtle sound of his zipper opening filling the room. We’re getting undressed for bed. If anyone heard us, they would just assume that. No one would suspect what I’m about to do. What I need to do. Because right now, the fire inside me for him is a deep, deep craving to just <em>be</em> with him. To continue to celebrate the fact that we are together and alive and safe.</p>
<p>Pulling down his pants and underwear, I catch his cock in my mouth as soon as it’s free and he gasps before his lips clamp together, trying to make no sound. Closing my eyes, I settle into a rhythm, bobbing up and down his shaft, heat pooling in my core. I usually listen for the little calls of pleasure when we do this to know what he’s enjoying, but now, he strokes my hair as I move and I have to judge when to stop by the shaking of his thighs next to me.</p>
<p>Releasing him, I shimmy back on the carpet, pushing away discarded clothes to make a place for us on the floor. He pulls off the rest of his clothes as I wiggle out of mine, throwing them on the bed with the rest. When he drops to his knees, I spread my legs and his head immediately dives between my thighs, quickly finding my hard clit with his tongue. This time it’s me who gasps into the stillness of the room and I cover my mouth with my hand, closing my eyes to focus on not making any noise.</p>
<p>Everything is so quick and fast and hot that I barely have time to enjoy the build up before I’m coming hard against his mouth and my body arches as I wordlessly exhale every pent up desire in my body, muscles pulsing and pushing waves of ecstasy through me. Kissing his way up my throbbing body, Logan’s lips land on mine, still hungry for more and my hands grip his hair, keeping him in place, legs spreading wider to take him, deep inside me.</p>
<p>The secrecy, the silence, is erotic. There’s no need for any sound. Our bodies just know, as we rock together on the floor, how to move, because at this moment, we are one. There’s no beginning to us and no end. The world will continue to work in ways beyond our control, outside, but in here, there is our constant. Our personal absolute in this life. I love Logan and he loves me and it may change and shift with time, but in the present, we are still one.</p>
<p>His hands slide along the ground to cup my face and he retreats from my lips, holding my gaze as we continue to move. Brushing his nose against mine, he murmurs faint as a breath, his love for me, over and over. Tears spring to my eyes and I press my forehead to his, repeating his words as quietly as a prayer.</p>
<p>Logan keeps his focus on me, his eyes dark with the intensity of our passion, his body shaking, his thrusts erratic and I find myself unable to look away. His mouth opens and closes in silent gasps as we move, twisting as the same waves of pleasure washing over me sweep over him too. I know he’s waiting for me and when sweat appears on his brow, my lips meet his and I close my eyes, focusing on our bodies, locked together. Focus on him reaching so deep inside me. Focus on the love surging through my heart and I come again, harder than last time, moaning into his mouth. As I pulse around him, he finally lets go, pulling away from my mouth as he comes deep inside me, biting his lip to keep from calling out.</p>
<p>I clasp his cheeks, sweeping my lips on his and he releases a low chuckle. “I think that’s the quietest we’ve ever been,” he whispers.</p>
<p>“True.” I giggle softly. “But I think I may have rug burn on my back.”</p>
<p>Cringing, he rolls to the floor beside me, gathering me in his arms and gently stroking up and down my spine.</p>
<p>“Sorry, but kind of not,” he whispers in my ear.</p>
<p>“Completely worth it.” Pulling my arms up between us, I curl into his body. ”I can’t wait until we’re back home.”</p>
<p>Kissing my forehead, Logan sighs. “Me too, Veronica. Me too.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The final chapter of this work will post Tuesday, December 1. </p>
<p>A very big thank you to everyone who has read along and left comments and kudos. You have all kept me very motivated to post each week and I am forever grateful you chose to come on this little adventure with me.</p>
<p>Special thanks to my amazing and fabulous Beta, Irma66 and my friend MrsKissyT, who were my sounding board for much of this process. Couldn't have done this without your support.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0035"><h2>35. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <strong>Epilogue</strong>
</p><hr/><p>“Veronica!”</p><p>As I jostle out of the classroom, I turn toward the sound of my name to see Logan waving frantically at me from down the crowded hallway. I stop, frowning at him in confusion and like a salmon swimming upstream, he pushes through the flow of other students toward me.</p><p>“It’s happened!  The baby!  It’s happened!” he yells and students around him part.</p><p>My heart leaps at his words and I involuntarily shriek with excitement.  Now I’m the one shocking the people around me, but I’m too excited to care.  Time seemed to fly by after the holidays, then came to a crashing halt around the end of February as Jackie’s due date came and went and we slid into March.  We tried to be good friends to them—going for walks with Jackie around campus during lunch and coming over to help Wallace with household chores—since we knew that if the anxiety of the baby showing up was vibrating through Logan and I, it must be unbearable for them.</p><p>When Logan reaches me, he scoops me up in a giant hug and spins me around as I squeal, hoping not to hit anyone with my legs. He’s breathing hard and there’s sweat on his brow and I wonder if he ran all the way here.</p><p>“Wallace sent Mac to find me, since his schedule is my schedule.  Would have been here sooner, but I had to boot home to find your class number.” He chuckles, kissing my cheek and placing me back on the ground. “Good thing we have our schedules on the wall.”</p><p>“It finally comes in handy.” I laugh. “I assume that everyone’s okay and safe and healthy if you’re this happy?”</p><p>Logan takes my hand and we start to walk down the hallway towards the exit. “They are. Mac and Parker have been there since last night, helping Jackie and Wallace. They called the midwife around midnight and the baby was born at 7:35 a.m. The post-partum doula arrived to help, so Wallace sent the girls home to sleep, but asked that one of them come and find me so we could come over.”</p><p>Glancing at the big clock over the exit, I do the math in my head. It’s 11:35 a.m. Jackie and Wallace’s baby had been on this earth for exactly four hours.</p><p>“Wow. We’re going to go meet the baby now? It’s going to be so tiny.”</p><p>“I know.” Logan grins as he pushes open the door, a blast of cool spring air hitting us both as we hurry outside. “Pretty amazing, huh?!”</p><p>I laugh as he tugs my hand, speeding his pace on the path, headed towards the family housing. Taking a little skip and a hop, I quicken my steps to catch up.</p><p>“I think you’re more excited about this than I am.”</p><p>“You’re not excited?”</p><p>“Oh, I am!” I gasp, trying to keep up. “But I’m also a bit freaked out about the possibility of holding someone that tiny. I’ve never done it before.”</p><p>“Neither have I.” Logan’s eyes open wider with excitement. “Isn’t it great?!”</p><p>Giggling, I grip Logan’s arm, trying to slow him down. “It is, but the baby will still be there whether we take five minutes to get there or ten.”</p><p>With a sigh, he finally slows his pace and I keep myself wrapped around his arm, joy tickling in my belly.</p><p>In the past few months, we’ve worked hard to deal with the lingering trauma from everything we experienced. When we returned home from Neptune, I became plagued by nightmares involving Duncan and Gory, and Logan became the reassurance for me in the night. The crumbling fitness center triggered us both, and for months, every time we walked by, we would avoid looking directly at it. News that the explosion was the work of terrorists was announced around Christmas, when we were safely back home celebrating the holidays with my parents, and the New Democracy assured us that we were once again safe from C.H.A.D. and their ilk, a fact my father quietly confirmed.</p><p>I talk to my therapist on a weekly basis about the nightmares, my mother and father, and Logan, but there is still a part of me that is now guarded, worried about telling too much. A remnant of my trauma. Logan dropped from almost daily check-in calls to his therapist to once a week as well. The day we sat in the Regional Security System video-conference room, and watched Aaron get sentenced to two consecutive terms of 15 years in prison for the crimes of child and partner abuse, was a relief, but it set off in Logan a deep sense of grief that he didn’t have the courage to come forward sooner. I was glad I could call my therapist and ask her advice on how to help him manage his pain and sadness. And hearing from Lynn herself that she would be back in Novo Terra by late spring, when Dad felt it was safe, helped give Logan some closure.</p><p>Together, we worked, focused, regrouped and came through it stronger, separately, and as a couple. Because woven between the heartache and pain was the love. The love between us. The love of all our friends. The love of our family, supporting us as best they could from afar.  And today…today feels like a convergence of that love.</p><p>When we arrive, breathless on their doorstep, Logan raises his hand to ring the doorbell, but he's stopped by Wallace pulling open the door.  He’s dressed in baggy sweats and a college t-shirt, his hair a disheveled mop of curls, but his eyes are wide and excited, and a giddy smile takes up his face.</p><p>“You gotta see her.  She’s beautiful, man!” Wallace exclaims, tears springing to his eyes. By the puffiness of his skin and the streaks of red in his eyes, it seems like this may have been the millionth time he cried tears of joy today.</p><p>“Congratulations!” Stepping into the house, I wrap my arms around Wallace and he hugs me so hard that I gasp.</p><p>“We can’t wait! Thanks for getting Mac to come and find me,” Logan says behind me, closing the door.</p><p>“Of course, we would come and find you. You’re both family.” Wallace releases me and I pull off my jacket, toeing my wet boots onto the mat.  “Let me say, having Mac and Parker around to help me was amazing, especially when things got hard for Jackie.”</p><p>“But she’s fine?” I ask and step into the living room, making room for Logan to follow.</p><p>“She’s as fine as any woman who just squeezed an eight-pound baby out her vagina can be.” Wallace laughs and I cringe at the thought that I plan on doing that very thing someday.</p><p>“Okay, three seconds into this visit and you are not selling the whole concept of <em>pregnancy</em> to me at all, Wallace.”</p><p>He claps his hands and rubs them together, shaking his head. “Nah. You’ll change your mind when you see her. Makes everything worthwhile.”</p><p>“Says the person without the vagina,” Logan replies next to me and I guffaw at the truth of his words.</p><p>“Ha. Ha,” Wallace says, sarcastically. “You wanna see my baby or not?”</p><p>“Yes, we wanna see your baby.” Clasping Wallace’s shoulder, Logan smiles. “But I also wanna yank your chain just a bit about it too.”</p><p>Gesturing for us to follow him, Wallace begins to make his way up the stairs. “Good thing you can multitask, right?”</p><p>“Exactly.”</p><p>I follow Wallace and Logan stays behind me as we walk towards the master bedroom.  As we approach down the hall, a tall, older, white woman with striking ginger hair comes from the room. She sees Wallace and smiles.</p><p>“Jackie’s getting hungry again, so I’m going to fix her a snack and make her some tea with honey. The midwife said her blood sugars were a bit low after the birth and I want to make sure it evens out.”</p><p>“Thanks Stacey. I appreciate it.”</p><p>With a small nod at us, her smile widens as she passes by us on her way downstairs. “That’s what I’m here for. To help and make sure everyone is safe and content. Enjoy your visit.”</p><p>At the closed door, we pause and Logan takes my hand. There’s a humming of excitement in my brain, like I’m about to receive the best present in the world and when Wallace pushes the door open, I have to hold myself in check.</p><p>Jackie is sitting propped up by pillows in the middle of their big bed, the duvet covering her legs. She’s in a blue robe with the collar pushed back a bit to make room for the baby’s small, round head laying against her chest. The baby is wrapped in a soft white blanket and Jackie is holding her close. When her eyes meet mine, she has the same look of exhaustion and elation as Wallace and even with her hair piled haphazardly in a bun on top of her head, her skin is glowing and she’s more beautiful than I could have imagined someone who just gave birth to look.</p><p>“Hey….there’s Aunty and Uncle.” Jackie coos softly, patting the baby’s bottom. “Glad you guys could come and see us.”</p><p>Emotion wells up in me and I can’t help the tears that begin to fall when I sit on the edge of the bed near our friend. “Oh Jackie. This is amazing. You’re amazing.”</p><p>“She really is,” Wallace says quietly, coming around to the other side of her and sitting, glancing down at his daughter. “It wasn’t easy, but she did it.”</p><p>“Is it wrong to say that I’m happy it’s over and I can just enjoy her?” Jackie chuckles and I watch the baby bounce slightly in her arms.</p><p>“Not at all.” Wallace kisses the side of her head, his hand coming down to tenderly stroke the soft black hair on the baby’s head.</p><p>“Have you named her yet?” Logan asks, coming to sit beside me.</p><p>“Ayesha. Ayesha Alicia Cook Fennel,” Jackie states with pride. “Ayesha is from my side of the family and Wallace wanted to have his mother’s name as well.”</p><p>“Ayesha Alicia is so poetic.” I sigh. “You guys chose well. A beautiful name for a beautiful baby.”</p><p>The baby’s yawns against Jackie’s chest and wriggles, one little clenched fist pushing its way from the top of the blanket and I’m in awe as I watch her squawk and squirm while Jackie bounces and shushes her.</p><p>“Do you guys want to hold her? She just ate so she won’t be looking for me for at least another twenty minutes.” Jackie laughs. “You might as well get some cuddles in before I feed her again.”</p><p>Leaning back, I put up my palms. “Oh…I don’t know…I think I’ll just watch her from a safe I-won’t-drop-her distance for now.”</p><p>“I’ll hold her!” Logan pipes up eagerly from behind me and stands, straightening his deep blue Henley in anticipation of having the baby in his arms.</p><p>“Okay,” Jackie laughs and sits up a little straighter, wincing in pain and I cringe in empathy for whatever she is feeling. “Put your hand under her head to support her neck and your other hand under her butt. Kind of like carrying a football.”</p><p>“Football. Got it.” Kneeling on the bed, Logan leans towards Jackie as she leans forward a little more,  lowering  the baby from her chest into her palms. </p><p>Slowly, she raises Ayesha up to Logan and I hold my breath as his big hands slide between Jackie’s, gracefully supporting the baby with his fingers as he pulls her closer to his body. For a second, his eyes are wide in awe as they look down at the tiny bundle in his hand, but then, he moves her up to his chest, resting her against his heart like Jackie just did. The sight of the little human tucked closely to his broad body causes another round of tears to spring from my eyes as my body overflows with love.</p><p>Easing himself off the bed, Logan stands and begins to rock his body slowly, back and forth, his eyes fixed on Ayesha.</p><p>“See, you’re a natural,” Wallace teases, wrapping his arm around Jackie in bed.</p><p>But Logan is oblivious to the ribbing, his entire attention on the baby as he smiles and coos at her. I rise and step to join him and he finally looks up, glassy eyes meeting mine. Gently, I reach over and stroke her soft hair, lowering my lips to give her a kiss on the head as she presses to Logan. She lets out another squeak and wriggles a little and her eyes open, staring at me for a second before closing them again.</p><p>I don’t know when Logan and I will have children. I can’t even say for sure that it will happen, to be honest. But right now, I’m overwhelmed with a strange sense of obligation. Of duty. To this little person who I just met and suddenly feel like I would do anything to protect.</p><p>And maybe that’s it. No matter what this world is like, maybe at its heart, it’s all about trying to do better, for those who are growing up in our shadow. The ones we love. The ones for whom we want to work to create a better world. The ones who need us to show them the way. It may not always be ideal, but we keep on trying in the hopes that one day, maybe, it could be as close to perfection as we can come.</p><p>“Are you okay?” Logan asks quietly, gazing down at me with loving eyes.</p><p>Glancing up at him, I smile. “I’m perfect.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Many thanks to my Beta, Irma66 for her help with this story.</p><p>The title "Lead on Into Eden" is taken from a line in Sarah McLaughlin's song "Into the Fire."</p></blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24996892">Covers (EllieBear stories)</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeronicaMarsFanArt/pseuds/VeronicaMarsFanArt">VeronicaMarsFanArt</a>
    </li>
  </ul>
</div></div></div>
</body>
</html>